It All Comes Back
by Inspiration25
Summary: Jackson is starting to remember what happened six years ago in the Hale fire. Rate T just in case.
1. 6 Years Ago

"And who's this little cutie?" Doctor Ross smiled down at the beautiful little boy with blonde hair and big blue eyes. He blushed and hid behind his mother as they entered the room and took a seat.

"This is Jackson. Jackson, say hello to the nice lady," his mother smiled down at him, taking him by the arm and pulling out from out behind her.

Jackson said nothing, keeping his head down and looking at the floor.

"Hi, Jackson. You have very beautiful eyes, but I can't see them if you're looking down at the floor, now can I?"

Jackson slowly looked up the lady in white. Her hair was long and was tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were gentle and kind, so he kept his head up and watched as she moved throughout the room.

"I'd llike to ask you a couple of questions if that's okay. You don't mind?" Dr. Ross took out an exercise and took a seat across from the Whittemores. "It's mandatory, and these questions will go on file."

Mr. Whittemore cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course. Anything."

Ross smiled. "Good. Now let's start off with this. It says here that Jackson isn't...yours?"

Linda Whittemore shook her head. "I'm unable to carry, so Jeff and I decided to adopt. Are you sure we should be talking about this in front of our son?"

The three of them turned their heads to see Jackson hunched over a piece of paper and crayons at a kiddie desk, drawing away and paying the least amount of attention to them. He looked deep in concentration, his brow furrowed and his little fist clenched the red crayon.

"I don't think he seems to notice. Moving on?" Ross flipped through some papers. "It says he was found with several bruises and cuts. Can you tell me what happened? Child abuse?"

Jeff rubbed his forehead and shrugged. "I don't know. When Linda and I took him in, he refused to talk. In fact, he still doesn't talk. The only time he talks is when he wants something to eat or drink, but other than that, he's silent."

Ross scribbled something down on a scrap of paper. "Okay. We're getting somewhere. How is he sleeping? Out like a light? Restless?"

Linda turned pale as she glanced at her husband. "A few times we woke up to hear him...to hear him screaming."

Ross stopped writing. "Screaming?"

"Yes. He'd be screaming and sobbing in the corner of his room. You could just see the-" Linda's voice broke as she thought about all those awful nights she and Jeff rushed out of the bedroom and into Jackson's, only to see the small boy huddled up in the corner of his room with tears streaking down his face and his hands scratching at the cuts on his skin.

"The fear in his eyes. Whatever he went through before was obviously tramatic. We're lost, Doctor Ross. We don't want him to grow up like this," Jeff took his wife's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Ross nodded. "It's not a problem. I'll do everything in my power to help your son get over his past." She set her clipboard down and smiled. "Would you mind if I had a word with Jackson? I just want to get to know him. He'll open up to me more if he feels he can trust me."

"Of course. Anything. Come on, Linda." Jeff and Linda got to their feet and turned to face Jackson. "Jackson? Mommy and I will be right outside, okay? This nice lady wants to talk to you and help you color your picture." Jeff smiled faintly before leaving the room, with Linda close behind.

Jackson watched them leave, his eyes slowly shifting over to the doctor as she took a seat next to him. He lowered his head, beginning to draw again.

"Hi, Jackson. I think I'll draw too. Can I have the blue please?" Ross took out a sheet of paper and watched with a smile as Jackson slowly slid the crayon over across the table to her, his head still down. "Thank you. Now what should I draw? How about a fish?"

Jackson glanced at her paper for a second before looking back down at his own drawing quickly. He scribbled something in the corner before grabbing the orange crayon and scribbling again.

"There. Here's my fish. Do you like it?" Ross held up her paper and showed it to him, but Jackson never looked up. "What are you drawing? I see lots of yellow and orange and...red."

Jackson shrugged and sighed heavily. He placed the orange down and looked over his drawing before looking directly into her eyes. Ross almost dropped her paper as she saw the pain and fear in his bright blue eyes. She thought about what the boy must've went through before his adoptive parents took him in. Was it so terrible that he refused to talk about it? Or talk at all?

"Can I see your drawing, Jackson? It looks lovely..." As she took the paper from him, her heart stopped as she saw what the picture was. A house was on fire, and from what she could see, there were what looked like people in a room, their faces, drawn by a child's hand but still noticeable, filled with fear and pain. Much like Jackson's eyes. The yellow and orange were the flames that surrounded the room, and the red was...blood.

"Jackson? What is this? What happened here?" Ross frantically grabbed a pen and wrote something down on paper. "Can you tell me what this is?"

Jackson's breathing quickened and he began to shake his head, covering his ears.

"Jackson, please! Why did you draw this? What happened in this fire?"

"FIRE!" Jackson's tiny voice screamed. "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" He knocked over the table as he shot up from his seat and ran to the corner of the room. "HELP ME! IT HURTS! MOMMY! DADDY! IT HURTS!"

The door opened with a loud slam and Linda and Jeff rushed in, eyes wide as they saw their screaming son on the floor with his hands over his ears.

"What did you do to him?" Linda rushed over to Jackson and held him tightly in her arms.

"Nothing! I asked him what the...this meant to him." Ross held up the picture, and Jackson's father took it from her hands, staring at the image like the flames on the paper were about to become real and burn his hand any second.

"What is this?" He asked. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"No. Jackson was drawing it while I was talking to you and finished just after you left. A memory of his past life, perhaps?"

"I don't care what it is. I don't want him remembering something as tragic as people dying in a fire." Linda covered Jackson's ears and lowered her voice. "Do you think his biological parents died in that fire?"

Ross shrugged. "I don't know. And we may never know, if he doesn't talk. I can help him remember-"

"No. Make him _forget_. Do you realize that he'll be beyond damaged if we let him stay like this? I will not allow my son to grow up like this!"

Ross glanced down at Jackson, who was still sobbing, but he had stopped screaming as soon as Linda gathered him in her arms and was gently singing to him. "Fine. I'll help him forget. But it won't be easy..."

"We have money. We'll pay your price," Jeff picked Jackson up in his arms and held him tightly. "Here's my number. I'll call you tomorrow to schedule an appointment for Jackson."

Ross took the card, looking at it before looking back up at the boy in his arms. Jackson looked tired and exhausted, his eyes red from crying and his breath shaky as a couple remaining sobs escaped his chest. "Mr. Whittemore...I can make him forget, but who's to say that it won't all come rushing back to him one day? It can cause multiple relapses, and he could become a danger to himself..."

Jeff glared at her. "Well then. I guess we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen, right?" He slammed the door behind him, causing a gust of wind to blow the drawing of the house on fire off the table, and onto the floor.


	2. 6 Years Later

**6 YEARS LATER**

Jackson moaned in his sleep. The sheets that were around him suddenly became a trap and he couldn't move. His arms and legs were constricted as he tried to roll over, and he moaned again, but this time even louder.

The smoke was filling his lungs. He coughed, trying to get as much fresh air he could into his lungs, but he couldn't breathe. The fire was licking his skin, and he was stumbling over fallen pieces of wood and scraping his skin against stone. A man was yelling out, calling for someone, and several screams followed. All cries for help.

Jackson screamed, his teeth clamping down on his pillow to muffle the sound, but it didn't stop him from biting his tongue as the marks on the back of his neck flared with the usual pain whenever he had "the dream." His hand went immediately to the scars, burning like a fire under his touch, and he massaged them carefully. Sweat ran down over his eyes as he sat up, hand still on his neck, and he fumbled for his lamp. He bumped into something on his dresser and it came down onto the floor with a crash, waking up the household.

His father was the first one in the room, flicking on the lightswitch and squinting in the bright light. "Jackson? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"Nothing, dad. Nothing. I was just trying to...get the light. Knocked it over. Go back to bed..."

"What's going on?" His mother came in, bathrobe on and arms over her chest. "Jeff? What's wrong?"

"Knocked over his lamp. Now he's ordering me to go back to bed," Jeff shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Jackson groaned as Linda came into the room. "Mom, I'm fine. Just go-"

"Jackson Nathaniel Whittemore, you're burning up! Are you sick?" Linda felt his forehead and sighed. "I could cook bacon on you, Jackson. Let me get a cloth."

Jackson groaned, letting himself fall back onto the bed. "I said I'm fine! Just get out of my room!"

"Jackson, please don't yell at us. We're only trying to help you. Just tell us what's wrong," Jeff glanced out the window. "Full moon tonight..."

"What?" Jackson exclaimed. "A full moon?"

"You sound so worried, baby. Are you sure you're okay?" Linda placed the cloth on her son's head. "Is there someone picking on you at school?"

Jackson smirked at this. No one _dared _to pick on him. Captain of almost every sport, _did _date the most wanted girl in school, and was the player who scored the winning goal in the state finals for lacrosse. Yes. Someone was definitely picking on him.

_Derek._

The name made him flinch, and he closed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"2:34. Why?" Jeff watched as Jackson got from his bed and grabbed a hoodie. "Um, where do you think you're going? It's _nighttime_. You have school in the morning."

"For a jog. I can't sleep anymore..." Jackson pulled his hoodie on over his head and slipped on his sneakers. "The doc told me to do something productive whenever I felt angry or restless, dad. She has been for 6 years."

Jeff looked at his wife then back at Jackson. "Fine. Just...don't be long? There's been attacks again."

Jackson froze by his bedroom door. "Attacks? Like a mountain lion?"

"We don't know, but still. Don't be out too long. Go for your run and come straight home. We can schedule another appointment-"

"I don't need another appointment. I'm fine." Jackson stuck his earbuds in his ears and allowed the music to play at its highest volume as he bounded down the stairs of the Whittemore mansion. With 14 rooms and 4 bathrooms, he could have the entire lacrosse team over if he wanted. The kitchen was supplied with endless amounts of food, the game room in the basement was stocked with the latest in technology, and not to mention liquor in the coveted wine cellar.

Jackson stretched as he slipped outside the gates and stepped out on the sidewalk. He felt his shoulder pop, and he groaned in relaxation. Once he was rearing to go, the song on his ipod has switched to his running song, "Down" by Summer Camp. He took a deep breath, pulled up his hood and began to run.

He had no idea where he was going. He recognized the trees and houses as he ran past them, but where his feet and mind were taking him, he had no idea. After running 3 or 4 miles, he found himself standing outside the Hale house. The roof on the upper floor was collapsed and covered in black from the incident that happened years ago. From what Jackson heard, many people died and only three people made it out of the house alive. Derek, his sister Laura, and their uncle Peter. Peter turned out to be the Alpha werewolf that was terrorizing the town a few months back, but Derek killed him, therefore making Derek the new Alpha.

Jackson shivered, taking the earbuds from his ears. He approached the house and shivered as a gust of wind rushed past him. Was Derek home? He hoped not...Derek didn't seem like himself from that day on when he became Alpha. He was cockier, stronger, and most importantly, more deadlier.

The door opened with a loud moan as Jackson pushed it open. The porch was dark, with the moon overhead his only source of light, and it reeked of dust, rust, and dead animals. He gagged, covering his mouth and nose with a sleeve. Whatever died in the house was fresh, as if Derek had just finished snacking on a deer...or human, recently. He didn't want to think about it, but Jackson couldn't help himself from stepping into what would've been the living room.

He looked around, running a hand over the dusty furniture, and found himself standing in front of a door that led to another room. Opening it, Jackson pulled out his phone and shone the light into the dark room. A flight of stairs led downwards into the basement and brought up an ever stronger stench. He turned and vomit on the floor next to him, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to a look downstairs. Allowing this urge to take over, he took a careful step forward and set a foot on the first stair. It groaned, but supported his weight.

The room was dark, even darker than the upstairs, and it smelled much worse as Jackson made it to the bottom of the stairs. He coughed, his nose still covered. What was down here? He saw a window in the back of the room, but it wasn't even a window. It had bars on it like a jail cell, and something about it sent a shiver down his spine.

He looked around at the walls. Scratch marks of all shapes and sizes covered the concrete , some deep and some that just barely went under the surface. Jackson reached out with a shaky hand and ran a finger over one. He gasped as a flash of an image filled his mind's eye, and he winced.

_Men and women were all pressed up against the wall with the barred window. They screamed and cried out for help, but no came to the rescue. Flames were roaring and licking their skin, and their screams only worsened._

Jackson yelled and stumbled backwards, tripping over something on the floor. He landed with a hard thud, smacking his head on the pavement. Groaning, he slowly turned his head and saw what he tripped over.

Bones.

He cried out and crawled backwards against a wall. Grabbing his phone that fell out of his hand, he shone the light from the screen around the room. It was covered in bones, some small and some big. The image flashed in his mind again and he began to cry as the flames grew and devoured the people that were desperately calling for help. A figure suddenly toward over him, and he felt himself being picked up and carried away from the fire, but he couldn't see who was carrying him-

Jackson started with a cry and rushed to his feet. He scrambled up the stairs, stumbling over his own wobbly feet, and raced out the front door. He ran until he was home, and by that time his ribcage was on fire and his heart was thudding in his chest. Sweat ran down his face, but he quickly wiped it off as he quickly and quietly snuck into his house. His father was asleep in the living room, the 56 inch flat screen on, but no sound came from it. Jackson shook his head and rolled his eyes. He was about to sneak into his room when someone cleared their throat in impatience. He hung his head, turning to see his mother standing in her bedroom doorway, arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was out for so long..." He mumbled as he brushed a hand through his messy hair, eyes widening as dust fell from his head.

"Uh huh. And may I ask where you were? You're covered in dirt and dust-are you _bleeding_?" She touched the back of his head.

"Ouch!" He pulled away, feeling a dull throbbing beginning to form at the back of his skull. "Geez, mom! That hurt!"

"Well, sorry! I'll let you bleed to death then! And if you do decide to lie down on that bleeding head of yours, change your sheets in the morning and do the laundry. I'm not responsible for bloody sheets in this household."

"No, just your own, right?" He scampered into his room before she get a good smack on him and shut his door, the lock clicking as he turned it. His heart was somewhat calmer, but the pain in the back of his head was still there. Groaning, he went into the bathroom that was attached to his room and flicked on the light. He blinked several times at the stranger that was staring back at him in the mirror before realizing that it was himself that he was looking at. The black under his eyes made him look sick, and his skin was pale and clammy. His normally nicely styled hair was messy and covered in filth. Bending over the sink, he splashed water on his face and grabbed a towel from the closet.

He opened his bedroom window and lay down on the floor. Even as a kid, he always needed a window open. He didn't know why, and he never could explain it to his parents. Without it open, he felt severly trapped in his own home, as if he were a caged animal.

With the towel under his wounded head, he tugged a blanket off the bed and covered himself up in it, and thankfully, went to sleep without the nightmares.


	3. Special Treatment

Jackson rubbed the styling gel through his hands and then through his hair. Once his hair was the way he wanted, he winked at his reflection and gave his hair a final once-over. Exiting the bathroom, he grabbed his leather jackset and bookbag. His keys for his Porsche were downstairs in the kitchen, and much to his disgust, he'd have to pass his parents in order to get them. He wasn't in the mood for another one of their "Are you sure you're okay?" conversations. He had enough on his mind as it was, and he didn't need more stress to add to what was already there.

"Morning, sweety. Did you sleep okay afterwards?" Linda smiled and handed him a plate of eggs and bacon, but he shook his head. "Not hungry? Or are you on that strict diet again..."

"Just not hungry. Where are my keys?" Jackson tapped the kitchen counter with a hand. "You know I don't like it when things are out of their usual place..."

"Your father has them. He's in his study room." Linda nibbled on a piece of bacon. "Jackson...we're worried. We really are. You might think we can't hear you at night, but we do. You're...dreaming again, aren't you?"

Jackson clenched his jaw, but didn't answer as he went into the study room. His father was sitting down on his large leather chair, the keys to the Porsche twirling around on his finger.

"Dad-"

"Sit down, son. We need to talk." Jeff didn't look once at him, but stared out the window instead.

Jackson sighed heavily and took a seat. "What? I'm going to be late for school-"

"I called the school. Told them you were going to be a little late," Jeff finally looked over at his son; Jackson looked pale and his eyes were still half asleep. "Your mother and I are worried-"

"So I keep hearing. I'm fine, dad. There's nothing wrong. Now can I go to school, please?"

Jeff shook his head. "You are going to sit down and listen to what I have to say, young man. Your mother was up all night last night making sure you didn't wake up in the middle of your sleep and sleepwalk again. She even took the day off from work so she could talk with Dr. Ross about...you going back to therapy."

Jackson's eyes widened. "She _what_? Without my consent?"

"We both think it's best, son. We thought you were progressing so well until-until recently. The dreams came back, didn't they?"

Jackson gulped and fiddled with the strap of his bookbag. "Maybe. I certainly wouldn't tell you if they did. You'll only rush me off to some doctor to have me fixed so I don't bring down the family name, right? Gotta keep up the reputation?"

"Jackson-"

"No. I won't listen to this. I'm done," he shot up from his seat and slammed the study door closed behind him. His mother was still in the kitchen as he rushed over to the drawer under the sink and fetched the spare keys to his car. She said nothing to him as he charged out of the room, but he heard her sigh heavily and when he looked back a split second, her head was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking as if she was crying. He frowned.

The car started with a rumble and he sped out of the garage and out onto the road like a professional race car driver. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white and he concentrated on the road. A headache was beginning to form in his temples, but he ignored it. He'd just pop one of his painkillers in before he went to class.

His usual parking spot by the bike rack was available, so he swerved into the spot and got out. He purposely let the door hit boy that was locking his bike to the rack and smirked. "Morning, McCall. Long night?"

The boy looked over his shoulder at him. "I...guess? I slept like a baby. What about you?"

Jackson glared at Scott. "Eventful. You know the cute cheerleader with the beauty mark under her right eye?" He winked and clicked his tongue. "I won't say anymore. I think you get the idea anyway." He smirked as he turned his back on Scott and headed up the stairs of the school. The hallway was packed full of students rushing to get their books straightened away. Teachers nodded their heads to him in greeting as he passed, but he knew better. They only felt bad for him because he was "that student who had issues" or "that student who was adopted." He wasn't equal to the other kids, therefore, they treated him different.

He didn't bother going to his locker. Chemistry was his first class so he headed straight for that room. Mr. Harris was already writing on the board as he walked in, but the teacher never took notice of him. Jackson rolled his eyes and took seat.

"Morning, everyone. Hope your weekend was productive." The class giggled, but Harris continued to speak. "Today we'll be looking at the subdisiciplines of chemistry. You'll be working in groups of two-and no, you're not picking your own partners." The class groaned, and Mr. Harris took out a sheet of paper. "In my hand I have compiled a list of your names and your partner. Please listen, because I'm only going to say this once. Ms. Argent? You'll be with Lydia. I think you and Lydia will get this done fairly quickly."

Lydia grinned as Allison took a seat next to her. "He's right, you know. With my brain and yours together, we'll have this done in five minutes."

"The sooner the better," Allison whispered back, and the two girls giggled.

"...and Jackson," Mr. Harris looked up from his paper at Jackson.

Jackson shook his head. "Um, what? Me and who?"

The stool beside slid out and Stiles took a seat. "Don't get too excited. It's just me."

Jackson groaned and let his headfall back.

"Believe me, Whittemore, I'm not exactly thrilled either, but can we at least set our differences aside so we can get this done?" Stiles leaned away as Jackson shot him a look that could kill. "Okay, fine. Be like that. You probably suck at Chemistry anyway..."

Jackson glanced at Stiles from the corner of his eye and smirked as the other teen struggled to figure something out. "Organic, inorganic, and analytical."

Stiles turned to look at him. "What?"

"Those are the major subdisiciplines of chemistry, you idiot. Didn't you read the stupid chapter?" Jackson opened his books and leaned back on the stool.

"Well I'm sorry if I was out last night helping my..." he lowered his voice. "Werewolf best friend on the full moon."

Jackson scoffed and scratched his chin. "Right. Forgot that he turned hairy and ran around on all fours at night."

Stiles shook his head. "You're a horrible person, you know that, right?"

Jackson shrugged as he tapped his pencil on his exercise. "I've heard rumors."

"No one said anything bad about you when they found out you were adopted," Stiles hissed at him.

Jackson looked at him, opening his mouth to say something, but Mr. Harris hovered over to the desk and tapped Stiles on the head with a pen.

"Problem, boys?" He frowned, his glasses slipping down over his nose.

"Nope. We're just about done, sir. Organic, inorganic and, uh...the last one." Stiles half smiled, but it faded as Mr. Harris stared him down.

Mr. Harris shook his head as he sighed, then turned to face Jackson. "Mr. Whittemore. I see you decided to come to class."

"Why wouldn't I?" _Right. The phone call_, he thought to himself. "Oh. My dad called earlier this morning."

"Yes. He sounded...a little worried. I told him that if you needed anything or wanted to leave class early, then all you had to do was ask me."

Jackson felt his face go red with anger as he felt all the eyes in class go on him. "I don't need special treatment, Mr. Harris. I'm fine."

Harris was about to say something to Jackson, but the boy had gotten to his feet and packed up his books into his bookbag. He said nothing, but just watched as Jackson left the classroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Jackson headed to the gym, the one place where he ruled and no one could boss him around...except for Finstock. Finstock was the only person who could push him around, but when he was out on the field, he was _king_. He played sports mainly because it made him feel free. Lacrosse was his favorite because it was outside in the fresh air, he could ram into people without being sent to the office, and he fed off the pain from the many bruises he got on his body. The pain made him feel alive.

As he stormed into the changeroom, he ran into his best friend Danny and dropped his bookbag to the floor, books and supplies falling everywhere.

"Jackson! Holy crap, you scared me!" Danny smiled and bent over to help pick up the books on the floor. "What's up? You looked...flustered."

"Sorry. And yeah, I am. I haven't been...no, you don't need to know this crap. Nobody does," he strode over to his locker and opened it, setting his bag inside and taking of his jacket. "What are you doing in here so early, anyway?"

"My locker's been messed around with again. Someone filled it with tampons this time..." Danny forced a smile. "No biggie. I'm used to it by now."

Jackson frowned. "I'll seriously beat the living hell out of whoever did that to you, Danny. I honestly will."

"Jackson, please don't. I told you before that this doesn't bother me. I know who I am and who I want to be, and nothing people say or do matters to me," Danny gently pushed Jackson away.

Jackson was amazed by the confidence his best friend had, and wished he too had that. "Okay. If you say so. But it'll make me feel ten times better if you just me beat the tard out of whoever did this-"

"Jackson!" Danny laughed and shook his head. "Chill. I don't care! Why all of a sudden you're rearing to go fight people? What's gotten into you lately?"

Jackson stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course. You're my best friend. I wouldn't tell anyone unless you wanted me to."

Jackson smiled. He knew he could count on Danny, no matter what. "I've been having these nightmares lately. About this house and a fire..."

Danny sat down on the bench and nodded. "I'm listening."

Jackson rubbed his neck. The only other person he ever talked to about this was Dr. Ross, and even she didn't know all the details. "I thought I stopped having them after my therapy ended a year ago, but now they're back and much more detailed than before."

"Huh. Did you tell your mom and dad?" Jackson shook his head at this. "Well, it seems that your mind is trying to push through a supressed memory of some sort. When did these dreams start again?

Jackson took off his shirt and shrugged. "I dunno. A month ago? Just after the fire in the woods. Where they found that guy's body by the Hale house." He pulled on his white t-shirt and sighed. "It's really bothering me, D. I can't get the images out of my head."

Danny shook his head. "Dude, I honestly don't know what to tell you. I think you should bring it up with your parents or your therapist. Or if that doesn't work out, take initiative and look into yourself. You might surprise yourself with what you might find."

Jackson smiled. "You're right. Thanks, Danny boy. I appreciate the help."

Danny's face lit up with a smile. "You're welcome! What are friends for, right?"

"Well in your case, they're for you to stare at when you think they're not looking," Jackson quickly flashed his abs at Danny before breaking into a full blown smile.

"Dude..." Danny blushed. "Not cool. You know I hate it when you tease like that."

"Oh I'm sorry. Let me kiss you and make up-or wait! Do you want me to wrap my arms around your waist and hold you tight?" Jackson dodged a playful punch from his best friend and began to laugh as he headed out into the field for a jog, feeling a lot better than he had this morning.


	4. A Grim Encounter

Finstock did a double take as he saw a figure running laps outside on the field. Squinting, he recognized Jackson as he stopped for a drink and laid down in the grass for a rest. Finstock rolled his eyes, and made his way out to the lacrosse field. He knew Jackson was a dedicated athlete, but this was getting ridiculous. It was like the kid lived on the field.

"Jackson! Why aren't you in class?" He called out, causing the boy to jump in fright. "Geez, you're jumpy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just can't sit in a desk all day and just listen. I have to be doing something. Like running. Working out. Playing a sport."

Finstock crossed his arms. "Huh. Okay. Well, you have me this period anyway. How many laps was that you just did?"

"Nine, I think. But Coach, I was just going to head home-"

"Do six more and you can go to Paris, kid. I don't want to see you running anything under ten laps. Makes me wonder then if there's something wrong with you if you did," He strode away, prompting Jackson to shake his head in confusion, but finish his laps nonetheless.

When the rest of his class began to come outside, he was already on his thirteenth lap. He slowed down when he saw some girls stretching their legs by the bleachers, and he saw this as an opportunity to show off. He stopped a few feet away from them, stretched and fanned himself, then took off his shirt. From the corner of his eye, he saw them straighten up and look him over. He smirked and turned to them, flashing his famous smile and winking at them. They blushed and began to whisper to each other. His job was done.

"Hey, Jackson!" Scott ran up to Jackson and sighed. "Look, I know we're not on the best of terms, but Allison wanted me to ask you if you were okay-"

"Oh so you're not the pants ofthe of the relationship? Wow, McCall. If Allison wanted to know if I was okay, then she should've asked me herself?"

Scott growled and his eyes flashed dangerously yellow. "Look. I don't like you. Stiles doesn't like you-hell, _nobody _likes you, Jackson. You're a dick. You always were and always will be. People try to show you an ounce of respect or show that they care and all you do and throw it back in their face." Scott shook his head. "You crave attention, Jackson, yet when you get it, it's suddenly not enough. What exactly do you want?"

Jackson stopped jogging and turned to face Scott, his jaw clenched and breath quickening. "I'll tell what I want, McCall. I want to be like _you_. The strength, the speed, the enhanced senses-the whole freaking shebang. For once, I want to feel like a part of something. Something important-"

"And you think getting bit by a werewolf will help fill that hole? Jackson, this isn't a gift! It's a freaking curse!" Scott lowered his voice as a couple of classmates jogged past, giving them odd looks. "I don't know why you want this so bad, Jackson. You have everything you could have ever wanted. A big house, a fast car, rich parents-"

Jackson scoffed. "They're not my parents. They're just two sorry, stuck up rich people who can't have a kid of their own to pass on the family name, so they took me in out of pity and shame. They most definitely are not my family."

He shoved past Scott and went around the track to finish off his final two laps. He stopped for a moment on his last lap to tie his shoe, and he knelt down, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he couldn't help but feel that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder at the school, seeing no one watching him or even looking his way. He then looked over towards the woods, where he knew so many things happened in there, and his heart jumped into his throat as he saw a dark figure standing just at the entrance of the forest.

Derek.

"Hey, Jackson! We need to talk, you and I. It won't be long," Derek's smile was menacing, and Jackson felt a shiver go down his spine. He got to his feet and slowly approached the Alpha werewolf.

"What-what do you want, Derek?" Jackson tried to control his voice. "Don't try anything stupid. We're on a field full of witnesses."

Derek chuckled. "Oh, _you're _giving orders now? Look, pup. I can snap your neck and disappear so fast that no one will even notice what happened. They'll think you tripped and landed funny...or I can make a deal out of this and rip you to shreds in front of all your friends."

Jackson gulped. "It wasn't an order. I-I swear."

"Good. I don't take orders from pups like you, anyway." He fixed his jacket and cracked his neck. "Now onto more pressing business. What the hell were you doing at my house last night?"

Jackson flinched. "What are you talking about? I was home in bed last night."

Derek pat his chest in a rapid beat. "That's your heartbeat right now. Thudding a million miles an hour. I know you're lying, kid. So tell me right now why you were at my house, and I won't rip your throat out in front of the entire school."

Jackson shuddered and forced himself to speak. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a jog-"

"And you just so happened to stop by my house? What did you steal?"

Jackson scoffed. "There's nothing _to _steal, Derek. The house is crap. Burnt down piece of junk that no one cares about anymore-" He hesitated, thinking about the skulls in the basement and how the images of the fire flashed before his eyes.

Derek seemed to sense this. "What did you see in there?"

Jackson began to back away. "Look, I have to get back to class-"

Derek grabbed him and pinned him to a tree, Jackson's face scraping against the rough bark."I'll ask again: What. Did. You. See?"

The scratches on the back of his neck began to prickle as he felt Derek's anger radiate from his hand that gripped his head. "Ah! Let me go, Derek! It hurts!"

Derek furrowed an eyebrow. "What hurts? I'm not even pinning you that hard-"

"Let me go!" Jackson shoved the werewolf with a strength he didn't even know he had and rubbed his throbbing neck. "Look. I didn't even want to go to your house, but I couldn't help it, okay? Something was calling to me, and that may sound stupid-"

"It does."

"Well, it sounds stupid, but its true. I went in the basement and saw scratches on the walls and skulls on the floor."

Derek's eyes darkened and a deep rumble escaped his throat. "You did what?"

Jackson stumbled away, tripping up over his feet and falling to the ground. "The basement! I Touched the wall and I saw a fire. There were people screaming inside and they were being burnt alive-" His voice faltered as he gasped for air, taking deep, cleansing breaths as Dr. Ross told him to do.

Derek frowned. "How...how many people did you see?"

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. I was too busy trying to snap out of it and get out of ther before you came along and ripped my heart out!" He quickly got to his feet and ran before Derek could say anything else, bumping into several people on his way to the changeroom.

Once he was inside, he splashed water on his face and fought for air down his lungs. Derek scared the hell out of him. Always did and always will, but the way his eyes darkened told Jackson that messing around with things he didn't understand with the Hale house wasn't something he should continue pursuing.

Getting into the shower, Jackson let the hot water rain down on his aching body. His tightened muscles relaxed and he let his mind relax too, forgetting about the Derek situation. His thoughts wandered to Dr. Ross. Maybe he could stop by her office after he was dressed and ready to ask for her advice. She helped him go through so much the past 6 years that he felt more comfortable going to her than asking his own family for help.

He quickly dried off and got dressed, not bothering to do his hair the way he liked it and grabbed his things. Luckily, the parking lot guard wasn't around, so he climbed into his car and revved the engine, pulling out of the school lot and drove out onto the main road. Ross's office was across from the Mayor's, and he remembered going there as a kid and seeing the birds on the parking lot, picking at the grass and food that was sprawled everywhere.

The entrance to her office opened and he almost smiled as the little bell above the door jingled as he both opened and closed the door. The secretary looked up from her desk and smiled politely. She was cute, probably in her early 20s, and Jackson chuckled as she looked him up and down.

"Hi, is Dr. Ross in today?" He asked.

"She's with a patient right now. Do you have an appointment?"

Jackson flashed a smile. "As a matter of fact, I do. She's expecting me, anyway."

The young woman blushed. "Of course. Just take a seat and she'll be right with you."

Jackson nodded, taking a seat in front of Ross's office. He flipped through a magazine for a few minutes, took out his phone and text Danny, and the door finally opened. Victoria Ross stepped out with a patient and her smile somewhat faded as she saw Jackson sitting down in one of the chairs in the waiting room. She leaned in the doorway and nodded her head, prompting him to get up and enter her office.

"Jackson. Been a nice while. I see you grew since the last time I saw you," Dr. Ross smiled and took a seat at her desk. "Your mother called me this morning. Wanted to make an appointment with me for you, but I didn't think you'd actually show up."

"Yeah, well I'm full of surprises." Jackson plopped down on the leather couch and leaned his head back against the arm of the chair. "I have questions, doc. And I'm hoping you can answer them for me."

Ross nodded. "Sure. Whatever I can do to help."

Jackson shifted on the couch. "I want to find out who my birth parents are, but I don't know where to start."

Ross sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Jackson, I don't know what to tell you. Your parents have no birth record of you, so it'll be hard to find a start point. We don't even know how you ended up at the orphanage. There's no record of you anywhere."

"There must be something! I can't have just appeared out of nowhere, with no record of my past life or who my family was!" He sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Come on, Doc. You have to help me out. The nightmares are back and they're more vivid than ever."

"Excuse me? Did you say they're back? I thought they stopped a year ago..." Ross leaned forward in her seat and stared him down. "Jackson...how vivid are the nightmares?"

Jackson gripped his hair and shook his head. "I can feel the heat, hear the screams. Everything."

Ross sighed heavily and got to her feet. Gently, she pushed Jackson down into a lying position and pulled up a chair beside him. "Stay still and close your eyes."

Jackson hesitated as his therapist's hand rest on his forehead. "Uh...what are you doing?"

"I'm going to attempt to hypnotize you. Your father strictly forbade me to do this, but he's not my patient. You are. You asked for my help, so I'm giving it to you."

Jackson let out a shaky breath. "Will it hurt?"

Ross shook her head. "It shouldn't. If it does, or if it gets to be too much for you, let me know, okay? I'll stop immediately."

"Yeah," Jackson swallowed nervously. "Okay. Let's do this."

"If you say so. Now I want you to close your eyes and think of something peaceful..."


	5. Hypnotized

Jackson thought about the lacrosse field. He was the only one there, scoring as many goals as he wanted. He smiled as he tossed the ball into the air and caught it in his glove, feeling more free than he ever had before in his life. There wasn't anybody telling him what kind of play to make, no players in his way, nothing. Just him, the net and the field.

"Okay, Jackson. I want you to try and remember the dream. Look to your left and go through the door," Ross whispered to him.

Jackson turned to see a green door on the field. Where it came from, he had no idea, but he did what he was told. Opening it, he was sucked into another scene. It was the basement of the Hale house. He was in the corner of the small room, watching as people gathered around with bowls of food and bottles of water. He didn't recognize any of them.

"What do you see, Jackson?" Ross asked.

"I'm in the basement of a house..." He didn't dare tell her what house, for the fear she might say something. "There's people around me. I don't know any of them...I hear them talking to each other."

"Good. You're doing excellent, Jackson. Keep going. I'm listening."

Jackson concentrated on the scene before him. To his left, a man and woman sat on the hard stone floor, quietly talking as the man wrapped an arm around the woman. They glanced over at him and he almost gasped out loud. They looked so real that maybe if he reached out and touched them, they would be solid, but he couldn't move. His arms were heavy by his sides on the couch as he say there helpless at the situation unfolding before his eyes.

"Someone's yelling..." He whispered. "I think they're shouting a warning..."

"What's the warning, Jackson?"

Jackson strained his ears, his heart stopping at what he heard. "Fire. There's a fire inside the house."

Everyone around him began to panic and run for the stairs, but as they did, Jackson could hear a door slam at the top of the stairs. Banging followed, which could only mean that someone was desperately trying to bust down the door. The man and woman beside him got to their feet and rushed over to the barred window on the wall and yelled for help. The others did the same, their bodies pressed up against the stone wall and their voices raised in panic.

"Jackson, what's happening now?" Ross watched as the teen's body stiffened in fright. "Jackson? Do you want to stop?"

"The roof is on fire. Everyone's screaming and trying to get out..." His breathing quickened as he began to panic. A piece of the roof collapsed a few feet away from him and he flinched in fear. "A woman is talking to me. She's...stroking my hair and telling me everything will be okay. That we were going to make it."

Ross was amazed by what she was hearing. "What does she look like, Jackson?"

"Blonde hair, blue eyes..." He twitched as an ember from the flames licked his skin. "Ouch! We're not going to make it! We're going to die!"

"I think we're done, Jackson. On the count of three you will wake up and you'll be back in my office. One...two..."

"Everyone's up in flames! The screaming-it's so loud!" Jackson felt the weight lift from his arms and he covered his ears. "Make it stop! Oh god, please! Make this stop!"

Ross shook his shoulders and backed away as the boy woke up with a start. Sweat poured from his forehead and he struggled to slow his breathing. His eyes were wild and frantic, but he seemed to remember where he was.

"Jackson? Are you okay?" Ross handed him the garbage bin, and he vomit into it. "Do you need me to call your parents?" Jackson shuddered, but shook his head in response. "Do you normally see this much in the nightmare?"

"No. Never," Jackson wiped the sweat from his forehead. "And this is the first time I've ever seen this woman."

"You've never seen her before?" Ross took out a pen and paper, writing down little notes for his file.

"No. She was..beautiful. Blonde hair that fell over her blue eyes..." He paused, looking at Dr. Ross. "I think she might have been my mother."

Ross handed him a sheet of paper and a pencil so he could draw. She almost smiled as she thought about the little boy who first came into her office and went to the kiddie table and was drawing away while his family talked with her. He wasn't a little boy anymore. He was taller than her by a good foot or so, and his voice was a deep rumble. He still like to draw, though. That didn't change. He drew whenever he came in, little doodles or sometimes full portraits of places in the town. She knew that she was the only one who knew that he could draw, so she promised to keep it a secret.

"Here. this is what she looked like," Jackson dropped the pencil to the desk and handed Ross the sheet of paper. "Exactly like that."

Ross looked over the drawing of the woman. It looked so real that it was if the woman could jump out at her any moment. He was right in saying that it might've been his mother; her eyes were the exact same shape as his and she had the curve of his mouth.

"She's beautiful, Jackson. Did you see what the man looked like?"

Jackson shrugged. "Just caught a glimpse of him. Not enough to draw a picture on..." He looked down at the floor. "So what do I do with the picture? It's not like I can use it for anything..."

Ross frowned, gently placing the picture in his hands. "You have it. As a memory of her."

Jackson looked down at his drawing, shaking his head. "No. I don't want it. Throw it out. She's dead. They're dead. Drawing them isn't going to bring them back." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed heavily. "How long is my appointment?"

"Your mom has you booked for an hour and a half. Is there anything else you would like to talk about?"

Jackson smirked. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. What do you make of the animal attacks recently?"

Ross laughed. "You're seriously going to ask about the news? Okay then. It's a mountain lion they're saying, right? Why are you smirking?" She shrugged off his grin and continued to speak. "Personally, I don't think it's a mountain lion. I've seen the pictures of the bodies, and the way the body is ripped apart doesn't look right. The claw marks are too thick and the teeth marks are much too large for a cat like that."

Jackson stared at her before shaking his head. "That's what I thought. It couldn't have been a mountain lion."

Ross knew there was something up with him. She could see it in his bright blue eyes and the way he was nervously rubbing his neck. "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"What? Nothing's wrong," he looked away, hating the way she always looked directly into his eyes and practically tried to read his mind.

"Stop lying. You're forgetting I'm a Human Relations expert, Mr. Whittemore. I know a lie when I see one."

Jackson shook his head and scoffed. "It's none of your business, okay?"

"Excuse me? Jackson, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your mom and dad didn't bring you here for the past 6 years because I was bored, okay? You _are _my business, and I'm not about to give up on you just yet."

Jackson was touched by the sudden act of kindness from the only person who ever gave a damn about him, but he wasn't about to spill everything he knew about Beacon Hills to her. Derek would kill him for sure.

"Look...I have to go. I'm late for...something else," he grabbed his bookbag and headed for the door. "Thanks, doc. Probably won't get much sleep tonight, but at least you tried."

"Oh, yeah. That's my life's goal. For you to miss your beauty sleep. Have a nice day, Jackson..." Ross smirked as Jackson rolled his eyes in annoyance as he left the office.

As Jackson was fishing for his keys in his jeans pocket, someone sang out to him. Turning, his heart stopped when he saw Allison running over to him, all smiles on her face.

"Hey! I called your name 3 times. Were you listening?" She smiled as her eyes went over to the name of the building. "Victoria Ross, Psychologist? What were you in there for?"

"Um..." Jackson chuckled and shook his head. "No reason. My mom wanted me to drop something off here. My dad's a business man. Thought he might make a profit off the building."

The door to the office opened and Dr. Ross poked her head out. "Jackson? Same time Friday?"

Jackson clenched a fist and ignored Ross as she talked to him. He heard her sigh heavily, and the office bell jingled as it closed again.

"Who was that?" Allison asked.

"No one. She's nobody..." He threw his bookbag in the backseat. "Can we pretend this never happened?"

"Why are you so ashamed?" Allison shook her head. "You're...seeing a therapist?"

Jackson rest his head on the hood of the car and clenched his jaw. Great. More questions he had to answer.

"Yes. I have been for the past six years," he mumbled. "Didn't know that I was a spaz?"

Allison frowned. "I never said you were a spaz, Jackson. What are you there for? Are you-"

"Please don't ask if I'm okay. Because I'm so sick and tired of people asking me that question. That's all I hear! Oh Jackson! Are you okay? Jackson, you cool? Jackson this! Jackson that!" He slammed a fist into the window of his car, and the glass shattered. His hand was covered in blood now, but he didn't care. He breathed deeply, trying to control his anger, but with everyone staring at him, it was hard to do so.

"Jackson! Your hand!" Allison grabbed his hand, and her fingers felt icy cold compared to his heated skin. "Here, let me take you to the hospital-"

"No. Just leave me alone..."

"But you-"

"I said leave me alone!" He yelled, surprised as she backed away, her mouth gaping open in surprise. "Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell-"

"Whatever, Jackson. You don't need my help. You don't need anybody," she turned her back to him and walked away, heading towards the bakery.

Jackson grunted in anger, wincing as his hand stung, thinking about how wrong she was. He scowled at the dispersing crowd, got into his car and revved the engine, and pulled out of the dreaded parking lot. He was surprised where he ended up. _Very _surprised.

"Geez...I must be going insane..." Jackson shook his head as he climbed out of his Porsche and bounded up the stairs of the library.

The librarian was a frail old woman, who looked up and smiled warmly as he approached. "Hello, young man. What can I do for you today?"

"Um...is there any way I can look at old newspaper clippings or articles?" He scratched his head nervously as the lady looked him over.

"Have we met before, young man? You look awfully familiar to me..." She fixed her huge glasses on her nose and stared him down.

"No, ma'am. Never..." He was feeling a bit uncomfortable with this old geezer stripping him down with her eyes. He didn't mind when the girls at school did it, or the occassional hot woman, but this lady? It gave him chills.

"If you say so. Right in that room, kid. Just make sure you turn the lights off when you're finished."

Jackson nodded, matching into the room like a man on a mission. He sat down in front of the computer and typed in "Hale House Fire" and hit enter. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, he readied himself for what he may or may not want to know.


	6. A New Knowledge

_'Mysterious fire claims lives at Hale house. Late Thursday night, Beacon Hills Fire Department responded to an anonymous 911 call that reported the two-story house just outside the town caught fire. As BHFD got to the scene, it was unclear if anyone was inside. The flames were doused and investigators were called in to examine the damage. Remains were found inside, but none were identifiable. The only person who seemed to escape this tragedy was the homeowner's younger brother, Peter Hale. He was rushed to the hospital later that night, as he was found wandering the woods, calling out to a 'Kyle'. He suffered several cuts and burns, 90% of his body badly burned in the fire. The Hale family is survived by the homeowner's two children, Laura and Derek Hale. The whereabouts of this 'Kyle' is unknown.'_

Jackson felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Straightening up in his seat, he continued to read on.

_"I've never seen anything like it before in my life" Says Mr. Wilson, the man who lived not far from the Hales. "I could smell the smoke as I was getting a cup of tea. I rushed out to see if it was just a bunch of kids messing around, but I could see the flames roaring above the trees. I was about to run and grab the phone when something caught my eye. A kid came out of the woods. It startled me at first, but he just stopped and stared at me. I could see he was frightened as hell and he had cuts and bruises on him. Before I could talk to him, some other man rushed out of the woods and snatched him up. He was badly burned too, but I couldn't see who it was. It was too dark, but I did see one thing. He had pure red eyes."_

Jackson gulped, staring at the words _Pure red eyes_. He knew that could only mean one thing. Peter Hale had grabbed the kid before Mr. Wilson could talk to him; ask him if he was okay. He read on, shocked by what he was reading next.

_When asked if he could identify the child if he saw him in the future, and Wilson responded "Definitely. I'll never forget the kid's scared blue eyes. I bet he's still scared out of his mind, poor boy. Haven't gotten the slightest clue what happened tonight. Probably lost family in there. Parents. Brothers. Sisters. Who knows."_

Jackson shut of the computer without exiting the program. He fought back the tears that threatened to escape his eyes and rushed out of the archival room. He passed the old lady at the counter, not looking at her once, but heard her sigh and leave her post only to go into the room he came from and flick off the light. She said nothing to him as he took out his phone and dialed a number, watching him all the while.

"Yo, it's Stiles!" Came the happy voice on the other end.

"Don't get too excited. It's just me, Stilinski..." Jackson grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, touche, buttwipe. Touche. Now what do you want? I'm in the middle of a very important game of Modern Warfare here-aw come on! He used a tactical!"

Jackson held the phone a foot away from his ear as Stiles screamed at his game. "Stiles...are you listening to me? I need your help with something." He heard a controller drop, and a long silence followed. "S...Stiles? You there?"

"What? Yeah, I am. Did I just hear you say that..._you_ needed _help_? From _me_?"

"You know, if you were standing in front of me right now, I'd punch you in the face. Yes, you idiot. I need your help. Now are you going to listen to me or do I have to personally come and clean your ears with a fist?"

"You have my full and undivided attention," Stiles chuckled, his laugh forced through a moan.

"Are you on good terms with Derek?" He asked, leaving the library.

"Me?" Stiles laughed. "Sure. Yep. We're the best of friends-what do you think, Jackson? No! Of course I'm not on the best of terms with him!"

"Okay, calm down, will you? I only asked because I think I found something about the Hale fire."

Stiles coughed. "What? Hale fire? Why are you looking into that? School project?"

"Not now. Meet me at my house later. I'll leave the gate unlocked for you." He hung up before Stiles could get in another snappy response and drove home. He was surprised to see his father in the garage, leaned over his own car, an antique from the 1930's, which he barely ever touched these days. As Jackson got out of his car, Jeff looked out from under the hood and smiled.

"Jackson! Just in time. I want to show you something real quick-"

"Sorry, dad. I have a..." He rolled his eyes. "A friend, coming over. Can this wait?"

Jeff shrugged. "Sure. What's the rush? You're breathless...you okay?"

Jackson scoffed, not bothering to answer as he rushed into the kitchen. From the fridge, he grabbed two Gatorade, opening one and taking a long swig from it. Sighing, he grabbed a granola bar from the cupboards and quickly ate in time to hear the doorbell ring. He raced out to the porch in a hurry. The maid, Helga, stopped in her tracks as Jackson nearly rammed into her. She looked grumpy, and he didn't dare tease her about her curly hair today.

"Es solo mi amigo, Helga. I got it," he nodded his head as he reached for the door. "Se hace mi ropa?"

"Todavia el pequeno nino Jackson..." Helga shook her head and scuffled back down into the laundry room.

Jackson rolled his eyes at her response and opened the door for Stiles. "You managed to find my house, I see."

"Oh yeah. It's this creepy, huge ass house that makes the other houses look like ticks. Wasn't hard to spot at all," his eyes roamed around the house and he whistled. "Wow. So this is where the Whittemore's live, huh? Does it come with its own Batcave too?"

Jackson glanced at him as they went up the stairs. "Dude...stop being such a kid." They went into his room, and Stiles whistled again. "Look, if you're going to keep whistling like that, then feel free to jump out my window."

"Fine. I'll stop. So what's the big emergency that I had to exit my 18 kill streak and come to your rescue? You need me to tie your shoe or something-oh my god!" Stiles flinched as Jackson raised a fist. "Listening. I'm listening."

"You better be. I went to the library today-don't! Don't say a word. I went to library today and did some research on the Hale fire."

Stiles nodded. "Aaaaand? What did you find?"

Jackson shrugged. "That's the thing. I don't know."

Stiles groaned, racing a hand through his cropped hair. "Dude. Need I remind you? 18 KILL STREAK."

Jackson sighed, plopping down on his bed before speaking. "I think I might know what my nightmares are. They're actually memories from my past." He looked over at Stiles. "I think I was in the Hale fire."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Wow, man. So that explains the candy in the bottle over there," he pointed to the dresser next to Jackson's bed. "Can't sleep at night?"

Jackson shoved the pills into the drawer. "It's nothing. Just painkillers for lacrosse."

Stiles frowned. "You know, I can relate to what you're going through. After my mom died, I couldn't sleep for months. Took me almost a year to finally get a decent night's sleep but even then it wasn't enough. It changes you, losing a loved one."

Jackson stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Whatever, man. Are you going to help me or not?"

"With _what_? I still don't even know why you called me over here in the first place!" Stiles let Jackson pace around the room before he lost his patience. "I'm going home. If you're not just going to come clean and tell me the truth, then pardon me. My xbox calls."

Jackson slammed his bedroom door, wincing as Helga's voice swore at him in Spanish from downstairs. "Lo siento!" He called down the stairs, and turned to see a surprised Stiles. "What? I speak Spanish..."

"Yeah. And you also know the major subsidiaries of chemistry..."

"Major subdisciplines, you moron." He ignored Stiles's odd look and grabbed his jacket. "Come on. We're leaving."

"Where are we going? Jackson?" Stiles followed Jackson down the stairs, pausing only when Helga caught him offguard in front of the bathroom door. "Hola," he said, smiling and nodding his head.

"Jackson, quieres ser casa para la cena?" She glanced at Stiles again before handing Jackson an armful of clothes.

"No inicio hasta la mas tarde. Decirle a mis padres?" Jackson threw his clothes into his room, groaning as they landed on the floor.

"Si. Lo hare..." She nodded and let Stiles pass before heading into Jackson's room and picking up the clothes on the floor.

Jackson went into the kitchen and grabbed an empty jar from the kitchen. He tossed one to Stiles, who nearly dropped it in surprise. "Put them in your bag. We'll need those."

"For what, exactly? Bug collecting?" Stiles did what he was told, wondering what the hell Jackson had in mind.

"I'll show you later. Hurry up and grab that last jar. I hear my mom coming-"

"Hi sweety! You're home early," Linda came in through the front door, arms filled with groceries. "A little help here, Jackson? My arms are full."

"I got you, Mrs. Whittemore," Stiles took a bag from her and smiled. "Hi. I'm Stiles Stilinski."

"Oh! You're the Sheriff's boy! I heard a lot about you. Smart and charming like your father?" Linda chuckled as Stiles blushed. "As for you, young man. I got a very odd call from Dr. Ross today-"

"Mom!" Jackson cleared his throat and signaled with his eyes towards Stiles. "Not...now," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Oh. Oops. So Stiles. How long have you been in Jackson's class?" Linda unpacked the brown grocery bags.

"Since the...third grade?" Stiles thought back to the first time he met Jackson, this shy and quiet kid who didn't talk much and sat alone in the corner at recess. He almost smiled, but he knew that Jackson wasn't the same scared kid anymore. The other boy could easily beat him black and blue, being built up with lean muscle after all these years of sports.

"Ah, yes. When we took him in. I remember him being so shy and quiet. You would never had said he was, huh? My boy..." Linda smiled at Jackson and handed him a bag. "A snack for later. Are you hungry, Stiles? I can cook something for the two of you if that's what-"

"We're busy, mom. I'll be back later tonight, okay? Don't wait up for me!" Jackson grabbed Stiles's sleeve and dragged him towards the porch.

"Oh. Well don't be out too long! You school in the morning! And don't forget the attacks!" She called out to him just before he slammed the door behind them.

"You know she's only dong this because she loves you, right?" Stiles climbed into the driver's seat of his jeep. "Even I can see that, bro."

"Don't 'bro' me. Drive. Now." Jackson pulled on his seatbelt.

"And where would you like to go today, Master Bruce?" Stiles grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Anywhere in particular?"

Jackson looked at him, clenching his jaw. "Back to the Hale house. There's something I have to show you."


	7. Note

Hi all! I've been reading your amazing comments and haven't gotten around to answering them all (they've all put a smile on my face so far) so if I haven't responded, don't feel bad. This site hates me somewhat...

I see a couple of you have mentioned the part about Jackson's flashback when he was in the forest and a red-eyed man came and scooped him up and carried him away (I sound like a child abductor or something...) but anyway just wanted to let you know that I do have something planned for that, so don't worry. A little surprise will be in store for that scene ;)

Long story short, I'm very pleased with your comments and hope that you continue to read on! Enjoy!


	8. Unwanted Visitors

"What. The hell. Are we. Doing here?" Stiles whispered as Jackson got out of the jeep and headed towards the house. "Are you insane? Derek-"

"He's not here." Jackson hissed back, eyes focused on the house.

"And you know that how?" Stiles was about to make the turn that led to the Hale house, but Jackson gripped his arm, shaking his head. "What? I'm going where you wanted me to go..."

"Don't park right in front of the house. It'll only give us away quicker," Jackson climbed out as Stiles parked his jeep. "You coming or not?"

"You mean get us killed quicker..." Stiles mumbled, rolling his eyes and getting out of the car. "Why are we even here? He's an freaking _Alpha_, Jackson. He can sniff us out in a heartbeat-"

"Did you not hear me say that he wasn't here? Now shut up and just follow me." Jackson wasn't going to tell Stiles how he knew, because he had no idea himself. His skin was covered in goosebumps and the hairs on his arms and neck were raised in fright.

The Hale house looked eerie, even in broad daylight. The blackened house loomed ahead of the boys as they approached, almost staring them down with the large windows that looked very similar to eyes. The front steps groaned as they went up to the door, and Stiles peered into one of the windows.

"And if you're wrong and he's home?" He shook his head. This was insane. _Jackson _was insane.

"Stop being a baby, will you? Grow a pair and man up. It's only a house." Jackson frowned, but he wasn't going to tell Stiles that his heart was pounding a million miles an hour in his chest. "Come on. I want to show you something."

They quietly made their way to the basement door that Jackson went through last night and opened it. He took out his phone and shone the flashlight down the stairs, beckoning Stiles to follow. Stiles was heistant at first, but he followed anyway.

"Oh my-son of a mother freakin-what's that smell?" Stiles gagged. "Is that...something dead?"

Jackson was't paying attention. His eyes found the claw marks on the wall again and his hand automatically rose and reached out for them. Stiles watched, confusion on his face as Jackson ran a finger over a claw mark. As he did, his face screwed up as if he was in some kind of pain.

"Dude, you okay? Did you prick your finger on something sharp?"

Jackson's hand dropped from the wall. "No. I was...remembering something, I think." He turned to face Stiles. "You know I'm adopted, right?"

"Yeah...what does that have to do with this? This house?"

Jackson let out a shuddering breath and looked around the room. "I think...I think my real parents might've died here."

Stiles whistled and scratched his head. "Wow, dude. That's...that's big news. How did you come to figure that out?"

Jackson shrugged. "I've been having nightmares lately. Ever since this whole-" he chuckled, shaking his head. "This whole werewolf situation popped up. Every night, i'd wake up sweating and sick with the fear that if I fell back to sleep, I'd get sucked back into that horrible nightmare." He pounded on the wall with a fist, gritting his teeth. "I just wish I knew what was happening to me! Why am I only now remembering? What happened the night they died?"

Stiles shuffled from foot to foot, feeling a little awkward as Jackson rest his forehead against the cool stone wall. "Um, well maybe we can ask around? Maybe my dad knows something about what happened. I usually pour him up some whiskey when I want to squeeze some info out of him," he grinned as Jackson half smiled at this, but the two boys suddenly froze as they heard something move from upstairs.

"Did you-" Jackson began.

"Clear as mud..." Stiles was about to creep over to the stairs and take a look to see if anyone was there, but a loud howl filled the house and echoed throughout the woods. Stiles yelled in fear and covered his ears, turning to Jackson only to see him on his hands and knees, a hand on the back of his neck. "Jackson! Are you-"

Jackson cried out in pain as the fire in the back of his neck became unbearable. It spread from the scars to his collarbone, then down his spine and waist. He yelled again, one hand on his neck and the other gripping the dirt on the floor. The howl was killing him; he wished it would stop...

A silence suddenly fell upon the house and both boys looked at each other. Footsteps from the upper floor could be heard just above their heads. Jackson let out a small moan, but Stiles covered his mouth with a hand. After listening for a few seconds, Stiles glanced up the staircase and signaled Jackson to follow. There were wet footprints on the floor in the living room, but as both boys inspected them up close, they could see that it wasn't the normal human footprint. It was a long, massive pawprint.

Jackson and Stiles glanced at each other before rushing out the front door and into the woods. They had no clue what direction they were going in. They just ran. Jackson stumbled over a tree trunk, and a flash of an image crossed his mind. _It was nighttime, and he was running. There were screams off in the distance, but he tried to ignore them as he ran, holding his badly bruised arm. Even the forest was filled with smoke, and his lungs were burning-_

Jackson wheezed, pushing himself to run ahead of Stiles. He never heard Stiles as he called out for him to wait up. He didn't like this forest. It was all too familiar to him. The trees, the situation, the running-

Something slammed into him hard and pinned him to the ground by the throat. He struggled to breathe, looing up into the eyes of a 500 pound werewolf as it stared down at him and snarled, teeth glinting in the sunlight. Was Derek insane? Shifting in broad daylight?

Jackson struggled under the wolf's powerful grip, forcing as much air down his lungs as he could as the grip got tighter. Derek snarled, and stared directly into Jackson's eyes. Jackson trembled in fear, his heart leaping into his throat. The red eyes were all too familiar to him.

A gunshot rang out and Derek let out a high pitched whine. Snarling, he took a final look at Jackson before racing off into the forest. Jackson welcomed the fresh air into his lungs and he gasped and coughed. A figure appeared beside him, gun slung at their side as they knelt down to him.

"Hey, kid. You okay? That bear sure had a grip on you..." The old man chuckled, his breath smelling like cigarette smoke to Jackson. "What are you doing out in the woods alone like this, anyway? Haven't you heard of the attacks lately?"

Jackson nodded, his throat too sore to speak. He looked up at the old man. He looked to be about mid 50's with gray hair and a scruffy beard. His eyes were wild and green, and his nose was slightly crooked. He smiled as Jackson tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse. He took a water bottle from the man and took a gulp, but spat out the contents in my mouth almost immediately.

"What the hell was that? Rum?" Jackson gagged, coughing.

"Ah. Boy knows his liquor, huh? Doesn't surprise me. What's your name, kid?" He smiled as Jackson eyed the gun by his side. "Don't worry, kiddo. I won't shoot you...unless you're a giant bear or something."

Jackson didn't even crack a smile as the man took a swig from his flask. "Right. Um...I'm Jackson. Jackson Whittemore."

The man paused, the flask an inch away from his mouth. "Whittemore, you say? Of Beacon Hills Whittemore's?"

Jackson wiped the dirt and soil off his jeans and jacket. "Yeah. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I didn't think the Whittemore's had a kid..." He stared long and hard at Jackson, making the boy feel uncomfortable. "Mm...you don't look like Jeff or Linda. You a nephew?"

"No...I'm their son..." Jackson began to back away. "Look, my friend is waiting for me back on the main road. I should go-"

The old man grabbed Jackson's arm, causing Jackson to wince and freeze in place. For an old geezer, he had an awful strong grasp. He tried to pull away but the man held him tight, eventually forcing Jackson to look at him.

"Well I'll be damned...you're that little kid I saw six years ago, aren't you?" He smiled and nodded. "I know you are. Aren't you?"

"I don't know who you're talking about, sir. Let me go..."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that. I'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Scared, alone, in pain."

"Sir, if you don't let me go-" Jackson stopped, looking at the man carefully. "You're Mr. Wilson, aren't you? The man who witnessed the fire from his house? And-"

"Saw _you_ come out of the forest? Yes, that was me. Why do you ask?"

Jackson glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Mr. Wilson. "I...I have questions. I think you might be able to answer them."

Mr. Wilson sighed, nodding. "Of course, kid. I know you must be confused as hell as to what happened that night. I can tell you everything I know, but first...you have to let me check to see if you're one of _them_."

Jackson furrowed an eyebrow. "One of who?"

Mr. Wilson chuckled. "Why, a werewolf, of course. What else did you think I meant?"


	9. Strange Herbs and Dreams

"Well, come on in! I promise I won't bite!" Wilson chuckled and ushered Jackson inside his house. "It's not exactly the coziest but it gets the job done. Have a seat if you want. I was just putting on a cup of coffee when I heard the howl. What did you do to piss it off?"

Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing. Exploring, you know? Teenage thirst for adventure?" He looked around the house nervously, half expecting for something to come around the corner and scare him.

"Sure. Teenage adventure. I gotcha..." Wilson sat across the table from Jackson and sipped his drink. "So, Jackson. You want to tell me exactly why you were at the Hale house?"

"You know the Hales? How?" Jackson sat up in his chair, ready to finally hear the truth.

"Well for one, I've been their neighbors for as long as I can remember. They were a quiet bunch, you know? Kept to themselves mostly. I remember scaring a few kids out of my yard from time to time, but they were good kids. It wasn't until back in late 2004, early 2005 when I was sitting here one night and I could hear shouting. I thought it was just a bunch of kids messing around, and I went outside only to see smoke rising from the tops of the trees. I was about to go back inside to call 911, but something burst from out of the forest. A kid-"

"Me," Jackson whispered. "So I'm...Kyle?"

"Kyle? I don't know who that is...you a Hale?" Wilson sipped his coffee and shook his head. "You can't be a Hale. They all had dark hair and green eyes-wait. That must explain it..."

"Explain what? Tell me!" Jackson exclaimed. His heart was racing now. He was finally to learn the truth about his forgotten past.

"I don't know if it's true or not, but I heard that the Hales sometimes took in homeless people and let them stay there until they could get back on their feet. I think there were 3 families living there at the time of the fire. Whether or not they had kids, I have no idea. Can't you remember that night?"

Jackson shook his head. "No. I don't."

Wilson frowned. "I'm sorry, kid. I really am. You must've lost some loved ones in there, then."

"I think I did. My parents..." Jackson ran a hand through his hair. "Can I go now? My friend is out there, and I don't know if that...werewolf got to him or not."

"Right, right. You do that. Do you remember where you guys parked?" Jackson shrugged in response. "Um...okay. Here. I want you to take this with you." He handed Jackson two small plastic bags. What looked like herbs was inside.

"What is it?" Jackson sniffed the bag and made a face. "It smells like crap."

"In that bag there is Betony. It's said to ward off nightmares. In that bag is rosemary. Burn that with some charcoal and it'll let you access knowledge you didn't think you had. Jackson..." Wilson pat Jackson on the shoulder. "I'm sorry. I never did know much about the Hales. If I find out anything else, or if I remember something, can I call you?"

Jackson almost snorted. His mother hated when strangers called and she had no idea who they were or what they wanted. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"Good. Now be careful with those, huh? Rosemary's a powerful herb, and some things are better left forgotten."

Jackson said nothing, racing back into the woods as fast as he could. He wasn't sticking around to wait and see if Derek wanted round two. He lost the first round, and he doubted that Wilson wanted to step out of the safety of his own home to save his life again. He was lucky Wilson even did that in the first place.

Stiles's jeep was empty as he stumbled towards it. His breathing grew faster when he saw the keys were still in the ignition, but Stiles was nowhere to be found. He gripped his hair, began to pace back and forth, and tried to calm himself down. Groaning, he pulled out his phone and dialled another number. He rolled his eyes. This wasn't like him to be calling people up for help.

"Jackson? I'm not used to seeing you pop up on my caller ID..." Scott answered, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised. "What's up?"

"I didn't call you for a chat, McCall. I'm...in the woods outside of Derek's property."

A silence. "You're _what_? Jackson, are you insane? He could kill you!"

"Don't you think it's about time you stop yelling at me with your girly ass voice and listen to what I have to say? Me and Stiles were checking out the house-"

"Stiles? Where is he? Is he okay?"

Jackson sighed, letting his head fall back. "I don't know. I haven't seen him for 15 minutes. We were running from Derek and-"

"DEREK? JACKSON I'M GONNA-" Scott began to talk so fast that Jackson just stared at his phone and shook his head in confusion. "-AND THEN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"Uh huh. That's nice. Now can please get your ass out here and sniff him out or something? Is that how you do it? Or do you lick each other's butts?" He turned away from the jeep and chuckled, only to jump in fright and his phone fell to the ground. Scott was standing right in front of him, his chest heaving and his fists clenched. "Dammit, McCall! Do you not know how to make noise when you walk?"

Scott shoved Jackson against the jeep, his teeth growing longer and sharper. His nails also grew longer and more sharp, gripping Jackson's arm so tight that he could feel them go into his skin.

"Where...is...Stiles?" Scott snarled, his breathing heavy.

"I don't know-ouch!" Jackson could feel the tears well up in his eyes as the claws went in deeper to his skin. "Ugh, god! Let me go! It's bad enough I have one set of scars, let alone have two!" He shoved Scott off of him, catching the other teen by surprise. "If that leaves a mark, I swear to god, McCall..."

"You'll live..." Scott mumbled, sniffing the air. "He's close. I can smell him."

Jackson rubbed his arm. "Yeah? Good. Sniff him out and get him to drive me home. I had enough of this crap for one day..." He jerked away as Scott glared at him with amber eyes. "I'm not apologizing for losing that little buttwipe."

"I don't expect you to..." Scott sniffed the air again before racing into the woods like a dog searching for something...which he was. Jackson snorted at this, rubbing his sore arm.

"Where the _hell_ were_ you_?" A familiar voice called out. Stiles cames stumbling through the trees, limping and with an arm draped over Scott's shoulder. "I was looking for you! I thought you were dead!"

"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jackson snapped, stepping forward until he was eye to eye with Stiles. "I'm sorry if I ran ahead, but you know what? He was after _me_, stupid. Not you. He wanted _me_. So I'm sorry if he had his massive freaking paws around my throat and was draining the life from me! I couldn't exactly tell him to 'Oh, hold on, Derek. Let me make sure Stiles is okay' _BEFORE HE KILLS ME!_"

Stiles and Scott stared slack jawed as Jackson grunted and punched Stiles's jeep. Stiles groaned and shook his head, but Scott continued to stare. Jackson caught him staring and snorted like a raging bull.

"What are you looking at, furball? Wait, you know what? I don't care! I don't care about anything anymore! I don't a damn!" He gave the jeep another punch before walking down the dirt path that led to the main road. "Don't bother offering me a ride! I'm walking home!"

Stiles and Scott watched as Jackson trudged down the dirt road, hands in his pockets and head down.

"I wasn't gonna offer him a ride anyway. He hit my jeep," Stiles muttered, and Scott grinned and shook his head as he helped Stiles into the passenger seat, and he got into the driver's, and went to he hospital.

Jackson slammed the front door to his house, kicking off his muddy shoes and stomping up the stairs.

"Jackson? Baby, is that you?" His mother poked her head out of the bathroom door and smiled. "Hi! Where were you all day-" She saw his bleeding arm and sighed. "Do I even want to know?"

"No." Jackson reached over her shoulder and grabbed the band-aids and gauze from the cabinet and headed towards his room. "Where's dad?"

"He's at a meeting with the mayor. They're discussing the old Hale property."

Jackson froze in place. "What? Why? What are they going to do with it?"

Linda shrugged. "He doesn't tell me these things. And I'm supposed to be his wife!" She rolled her eyes as she pinned up her hair. "What do you think? Up or down?"

Jackson shrugged, not bothering to answer as he went into his room and shut his door. He collapsed face first into his bed, breathing in the soapy scent of laundry detergent. He groaned as he eased off his jacket, inspecting the claw marks Scott left behind on his arm. They weren't as deep as the ones Derek made on the back of his neck, but they still hurt like hell; he had to bite on one of his belts to keep from yelling out loud as he sprayed anti-bacterial spray on the open wounds. He bandaged them, and reached into his jacket pocket for the herbs Wilson gave him. He sniffed the rosemary and gagged, but took some out anyway. the bag already had charcoal in it, so he didn't have to worry about go about looking for some.

He was about to place it in a bowl he made in art class when he froze, forgetting that his mother was still home. Quickly and silently, he bounced off his bed and peeked out of his room. She was still in the bathroom across the hall, playing with her hair and humming to herself. Completely clueless.

Shutting the door, he got to his knees and put the rosemary and charcoal into the bowl. His lighter was in his dresser drawer, so he grabbed that and lit it up. The herb began to burn brightly, and the smell of the smoke was making him dizzy and lightheaded. He coughed, dousing it out with water from his water bottle. He dragged himself over to his bed and crawled under the sheets, and began to dream.

_"Here, Kyle. That's all they'll give us for tonight. We have to share with the others," A woman said, handing him a bowl of chunky liquid. "It's oatmeal. You like oatmeal."_

_"But I don't want oatmeal. I want what the kids upstairs are having!" He pouted, sticking out his upper lip._

_"Oh trust me, son. You don't want what they're having," A man chuckled, which earned him a nudge from the woman. "Sorry, honey. Won't do that again."_

_"What? What are they having? Can I go see?" He was about to get up, but the woman gently took his arm and rubbed it with her thumb._

_"No, baby. You have to stay down here with us. They told us to stay here until morning."_

_He pout again and sat on the floor, arms crossed. "No fair! There's nothing to do down here! Everyone else gets to go outside and play in the dark! I want to go outside!"_

_The man smiled. "You can go outside in the morning. Right now, you have to get some sleep if you want to be as big and strong as-"_

_"FIRE! SOMEONE STARTED A FIRE!" Someone yelled from upstairs._

_He looked up at the man and woman, frightened as they got to their feet and rushed to the barred window. "Mommy? Daddy? What's wrong? What's happening?"_

_"Kyle, just stay there, okay? I'll go upstairs and see what's-" The man frowned as he looked up at the top of the stairs. "Did anyone else try the door?"_

_"It's locked! I just tried it!" Another man sang out over the crackling of the flame above their head._

_"Dammit! Molly! Can you squeeze through the bars and get help?" The man coughed and stumbled over to the wall._

_"No! It's too small! Kyle? Kyle, where are you?" She called out, as the smoke was getting too thick for her to see her son._

_"I'm right here mommy! I'm right-" He watched as a beam collapsed from the ceiling, completely on fire as it fell on top of the man and woman. He sat there in shock as he watched them burn, their screams of pure agony echoing in his ears and mind._

_He sat what felt like an enternity on the floor, until someone burst down the door from upstairs and saw him among the flames and body. The man picked him up in his arms and carried him away; who was he? He had no idea._

_"Mom! Dad!" He cried, reaching out as the strange man carried him up the stairs and out of the house-_

"Mom! Dad!" Jackson cried in his sleep. "MOM! DAD!"

His bedroom door burst open and his parents ran in, flicking on the light to his room. Jackson was sitting up in his bed, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Linda rushed over to him and held him close, rubbing his back and whispering into his ear. She felt the heavy sobs from Jackson's back as he continued to cry, and she glanced over at Jeff, who said nothing but watch his son cry. He _never_ saw Jackson cry, except when he was younger.

"Baby? Jackson, honey, what happened?" Linda waited for Jackson to answer, but was both amazed and shocked at how he answered back. His arms wrapped around her and he held her tight, burying his face in her shoulder, and he continued to cry some more.


	10. Forgotten Birthday

Jackson slowly sat down at the kitchen table the next morning, holding a bowl of cereal in his hands. His mother looked pleasantly surprised as he poured some juice into a glass and took a sip. She glanced at Jeff, who had just entered the kitchen fixing his tie. He stopped in his tracks as he saw his son sitting at the table eating his breakfast.

"Jackson? What are you doing?" He asked, sitting down by his own breakfast.

Jackson looked up from his bowl. "Eating. Hence the bowl of cereal and kitchen utensils. What are _you_ doing?"

"Me? I have a meeting with the mayor again today. That Hale house is more trouble than it's worth."

"Why? You can't just tear it down?" Jackson didn't like this idea one bit. His past was in there, little did his mom and dad know. The only answers he could find were in that house.

"Nope. That Hale kid, Derek, refuses to leave it. Saw him yesterday as we went to the house. Just sitting on the porch without a care in the world. He was all smiles, for whatever reason, and his right arm was covered in dried blood."

Jackson stared at the table as he sipped his juice. Wilson must've gotten a shot in him yesterday. "Huh. Weird."

Jeff nodded. "That family always was weird. And I heard they hoarded people, too. Took in the homeless and fed them and gave them a home for a while. Your mother and I used to joke that they plumped the poor souls up for a feeding later-" A thud from under the table silenced him, and he glanced at Linda, who glared at him with her brown eyes. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

Jackson gulped as his parents smiled at each other with pure love in their eyes. This was just like the dream he had last night. Of course, he remembered waking up screaming louder than he ever did before, and his mother was holding him; comforting him. He fell asleep with her beside him as she gently stroked his hair and spoke to him in a gentle tone, telling him that everything was okay and he was only having another nightmare.

"Um, I have to go to school. Where are my keys?" Jackson glanced in the dish that normally harbored his keys and sighed heavily. "Dad...come on. Seriously?"

Jeff shook his head. "I thought I could give you a ride today. That okay with you?" He grinned as Jackson eventually nodded in agreement. "Excellent! Now come out to the garage. I have a surprise for you."

In the garage, Jeff flicked on the light and strode over to the antiwue car, climbing in and starting it up.

"It...works?" Jackson looked at the old car in awe. "I thought it wouldn't work before?"

"I've been working on it for the past couple of weeks. Wanted to surprise you on your birthday."

Jackson looked at him. He completely forgot it was his birthday today. He was 17. How could he have forgotten? Under other circumstances, he was normally talking about his birthday plans 3 weeks before his birthday, planning out who was coming to his party, who the DJ was going to be, the whole shebang. This year...was different.

"Right. I forgot..." He ran a finger over the paint job of the car.

"You forgot? That's not like you at all," Jeff half smiled and shook his head. "You know, son, it's seven years ago today that your mom and I took you in. Do you remember that?"

"No," Jackson lied. Of course he remembered. He remembered sitting on the bed of the orphanage staring at the wall ahead of him and fiddling with his too big jacket. The Whittemores sat next to him on either side and talked to him, asked him questions, but none of which he answered. The only response they got from him was a small whimper when they asked him if his cuts and bruises hurt. His mother took his hand then and gave it a squeeze, whispering to him that from now on, everything was going to be okay. They would take care of him.

"Ah, I didn't expect you to. You had a...rough life, Jackson. No kid should have to go through what you did. Losing parents at your age. I'm glad your mom and I took you in. You lit up our world."

Jackson looked away as he climbed into the car and pulled out of the garage. His father talked away, telling him how excited he was for the upcoming lacrosse game (even though he never shows up for any of them) and how he was thinking of redoing the dining room. Jackson said nothing, just nodded his head at the right places of the conversation and stared out the window.

"Here we are. You sure you're okay for today? Did you want to stay home?" Jeff glanced from Jackson to the school. 'Your friends look excited to see you."

Jackson looked over at the entrance to the school. Danny and his other teammates were bouncing up and down, waving to him with goofy grins on their faces. "I'm cool. See you later."

"Wait, Jackson." Jeff opened up the glove compartment and took out a small gift wrapped package. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

Jackson hesitated before taking the gift from his father. "Thanks. What is it?"

Jeff grinned. "I'm not telling. You have to open it and find out for yourself. Have a good day, son."

Jackson nodded, watching as the antique car sped away and he was ambushed by his teammates. "Guys! What the hell?"

"It's your burp-day, dude! Why the long face?" One of his friends, Filippo, said while making a face. "Cheer up! Big party tonight! Drinks! Girls! Did I mention girls?"

Danny shook his head. "Whatever Jackson decides to do, I'm fine with. It doesn't always have to be this big party. I'm cool with just sitting down and watching a movie with friends. Just hang, you know?"

The boys stared at him as if he was nuts. "Danny's getting a little soft," Filippo whispered. "Should we hold his hand and start singing Celine Dion?"

Jackson gave a him a shove. "Lay off, Fil. He's right. I'm not doing anything this year for my birthday."

"You're _what_?" The boys said in unison. "Why the hell not?"

"I have too much on my mind, that's all. I'm not in the party mood," Jackson pushed past them and headed inside. People pat him on the back and gave him a high five, wishing him "Happy Birthday!" as he walked to his locker. Lydia was standing beside it, looking over her nails.

"I hear it's your birthday..." She said, looking up from her nails. "What do you say to me?"

Jackson looked at her. "Excuse me? What do _I _say to _you_? What's that supposed to mean?"

Lydia smiled, putting in his combination for his lock and opening his locker door. "Last year, you said you hated the gift I got you and gave it back to me. Do I look like I have use for expensive men's cologne, Jackson Whittemore? Really?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I'm really not in the mood today, Lydia. I've had a rough night-"

"Oh. Rough night. What, couldn't decide what to wear today? Or how to style your hair? Jackson, you're so full of it. I'm we're broke up-" She was caught offguard as Jackson grabbed her by the waist and planted a kiss on her lips. Her eyes widened in both shock and surprise as he continued to kiss her. She lift her knee and hit him as hard as she could at his groin. He grunted, falling to he floor and holding his crotch.

"Ugh..." He groaned. "What was that for? That hurt!" His voice went up an octave and he wheezed for air.

"For missing me, you idiot. If I wanted to be kissed, I would've asked, but I certainly didn't want to be kissed by you. You're cute, Whittemore, but we're _done_. So good bye," she turned and walked away, her heels echoing down the hall.

Grunting, Jackson got to his feet and placed his forehead on the cool locker. Not the greatest way to start off his birthday. His groin still ached even as he went to his first class, gym (unfortunately) and he limped into the locker room. The boys looked at him oddly as he sat on a bench, head in his hands.

"Jackson...you okay?" Danny pat his shoulder.

"Got kicked in the balls by Lydia..." He heard snorts of laughter, and when he snapped his head up to look at them, their faces turned into a frown quickly. "That's right. The girl has boney knees, okay?"

"Whatever, man..." Danny smiled. "You ready for a run today? Finstock says we're going in the woods. I don't believe him, but you can never tell with him, right?"

Jackson shrugged. "Do we have to? I don't like the woods..." He shivered, thinking about Derek lurking about as his class went for a jog through the trail.

"You're scared? Come on, man. The mountain lion's long gone. Argent shot it the other day."

Jackson glanced up. "Argent? As in Chris Argent? Allison's dad?"

"One and only. Oh, Finstock's calling. Hurry up, man. We're leaving for the woods now."

Jackson sighed heavily, quickly changing into his sweatpants and gym shirt, and went outside to catch up with the rest of his class. He hesitated in front of the entrance to the woods, but evetually worked up enough courage to go in. He oculd hear his class up ahead, laughing and screaming as the boys teased the girls by grabbing their waist and making animal noises. He half smiled to himself, sticking his earbuds to his iPod in his ears, and broke out into a jog-

"Going somewhere?" A voice made him jump in fright. Derek was suddenly in front of him, a wicked smile on his face. "It's not like you to be in the back of the line like this. I thought you were a leader?"

"Leave me alone, Derek..." Jackson tried to pass him, but Derek stopped him by placing a hand on his chest. "What? What could you possibly want from me now? I helped you kill your uncle. You wouldn't bite me when I asked, and now you're bothering me for something else? Get out of my face-"

Derek growled, a deep rumble that came deep within him. "Move, and I'll snap your legs. Stay and listen to what I have to say, then you might just live. Sound good?" Jackson let out a shuddery breath and nodded. "Excellent. Now I hear that your...posse is planning a party at my house? You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that, do you?"

"What? No! I didn't even know-" He winced, a hand going to the back of his neck. "Derek, please. I didn't know about this. I swear to god, I didn't. Where did you hear this?"

Derek thumbed over his shoulder. "Oh, just your little friends up ahead. I can hear them right now. 'You think Jackson would be surprised?' 'Oh, hell yeah! Jack loves surprises, This'll be dope!' Sound like your friends?"

Jackson grimaced. "I'll talk them out of it. Just don't hurt them, Derek. Or I swear to God-"

"Or you'll what, Jackson? You're nothing compared to me. You're weak. A child. You think you can take me on?" Derek spread his arms out before him. "Try me. Knock me over. Push me. Punch me. Do it. _I dare youI_." Derek's eyes turned red and he smiled.

Jackson shivered, shaking his head. "No. Just leave me alone, and I'll handle this, okay? I'll talk to them later and stop this party before it ruins everything."

Derek lowered his arms. "Fair enough. Now start running. I'll give you a ten second head start."

"Wh-what? What do you mean?" Jackson croaked. "What are you doing?"

"One...two...three..." Derek smirked, his teeth getting longer.

Jackson bolted down the path, stumbling and tripping over rocks and stumps as he rushed to catch up with his classmates. He could hear heavy footsteps behind him, and none of them sounded like a normal man on two feet. This sounded like something on all fours. He whimpered, looking over his shoulder to see if Derek was behind him, but slammed into something solid. He grunted, falling backwards and onto the ground.

"Holy f-Jackson! Watch it, dude! Vicky, you okay?" Filippo shook his head as he helped a girl to her feet. "What's wrong with you, Whittemore?"

Jackson fought to catch his breath, shrugging his shoulders as he propped himself against a tree and closing his eyes. "I don't know, man. I honestly don't know."


	11. The Devil's Den

The cafeteria was crowded by the time Jackson went in to get his lunch. His friends were at their normal table by the window, laughing and playfully punching each other. Did they have the slightest clue what they were doing? A party on the Hale property? If werewolves hadn't existed, or if Derek wasn't around, he would've been all for it, but the circumstances were different and the risks were too high. Someone could die.

"Hey, Whittemore! Come on over, birthday boy!" Danny pulled out a chair and smiled. "What happened to you after gym? You took off before I could get a chance to talk to you..."

"Nothing. I got...cold," Jackson took a bite out of his apple and shrugged. "So I heard you guys were planning a party at the Hale's tonight?"

The crowd at the table stopped talking immediately. Danny frowned and eventually, they all turned to face Filippo. "Dude, you opened your big mouth again?"

"What? I never said a word! I swear!" Filippo crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not talking to you guys. Accusing me of ruining a perfectly good surprise party like that-" A girl leaned over towards him, his girlfriend Vicky, and kissed him on the lips. "Uh...I never said anything. I swear on this delicious body beside me."

Vicky smiled. "He's telling the truth."

Jackson rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window. He choked on a bite of his apple as he saw Derek standing by the large oak tree that stood by the lacrosse field, arms folded over his chest. He was staring right in Jackson's direction, smiling, and he pointed to his ear, then to Jackson. He could hear them talking.

"Um...I don't really think that the party's a good idea. Can we move it? Anywhere but there?" He shifted his gaze from Derek to his friends, knowing that the werewolf could hear his every word.

"Uh, no! Come on, Jackson! That place is _huge_. Tons of space for kegs, the DJ, tons of places to have s-" A stomp from under the table silenced Filippo, and he frowned, glancing at his girlfriend.

"I just don't want to go there, okay? Can at you guys just listen to me and respect what I want?" Jackson slammed a fist on the table. He knew everyone was looking at him strange, but he didn't care. "Look. We'll do something on Firday. Party at my place, the beach, wherever. Just...not there. It's too dangerous."

His friends glanced at one another before nodding in agreement. "Sure, man. Whatever you want to do," Danny smiled, going back to eating his food.

Jackson shuddered, looking out the window to see that Derek was still standing there, but his smile had eased into a neutral face and he nodded curtly before turning and going into the woods. He sighed, about to placed his head on his arms when someone slammed a tray on the table beside him. His head snapped up and he saw Stiles, a leg in a cast.

"Sign my cast?" He said, his face in a frown.

"What happened to you?" Jackson eyed the cast and the crutches. "Broke your leg?"

"Oh no. Casts are all the rage in fashion now. Of course I broke my leg!" Stile shoved some chips into his mouth. "So you gonna sign it or not?I'm trying to get the team to sign it because it's not like I'll make it out onto the field to play anytime soon, anyway."

Jackson sighed, grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. "There. Happy?"

Stiles looked down at his leg, then leaned back in his chair, staring at Jackson while shaking his head. "'Kiss my ass'? Really? A simple 'Get better soon' would've sufficed..."

"Why was Derek outside just then?" Scott came over to the table and sat down with them, his voice a whisper. "Is he looking for me?"

"You wish. He was making sure I kept to my word. Apparently my birthday is going to be held at his house."

Stiles turned pale. "Wh-what? No. No, no, no. That can't happen. He'll kill us!"

Jackson signaled him to be quiet. "Shh! You don't think I already know that? He's tried to kill me three times already!"

Scott shook his head. "So the party's canceled, right?"

"I think it is-"

"You think?"

Jackson gritted his teeth. "Are you not listening to me, furball? Yes! It's handled! Geez!" He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He reached into his backpack for his painkillers, but he felt a plastic bag between his fingers. He glanced down. The herbs.

"Um...I'll catch you guys later, okay?" He picked up his bag and his food tray quickly, rushing before anyone could ask anything.

"Where you going? We have class right after this," Danny frowned. "Are you...going to see her?"

Jackson froze, looking his best friend in the eye. Danny seemed to just know things without them ever having to be said. "Yeah. I am. Tell the teachers I won't be in?"

"Sure. No prob, buddy. Take care." Danny smiled as Jackson left in a hurry.

The run to Dr. Ross's seemed to take 30 seconds, and his legs were on fire as he rushed into the office. The secretary looked up from her desk in surprise as he rushed in and went to Ross's office. "Um, excuse me! Where do you think you're-"

Jackson ignored her, going into his therapist's office. "Doc? It's me. Jackson."

Ross looked up from her papers and frowned. "Jackson? Why are you out of breath? What happened?"

Jackson chuckled as he forced air down his lungs. "I have an idea. I want to go deeper. I want to dream more than I ever have before."

Ross watched him take out the herbs and grab an artifact bowl from her cabinet. "Um, that's not-"

"I'll pay for it later. Do you have a lighter?" He reached out his hand and she hesistantly passed him a lighter. "Thanks. I have to breathe these herbs in and go to sleep. At least that's what I'm told to do."

"Is that marijuana? Jackson Whittemore! What are you-" She watched as the teen breathed in the burning herb and his eyes rolled up in the back of his head. "J-Jackson? Jackson?" Ross jumped to her feet as the boy collapsed to the floor, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids. "Jackson! Jackson!"

_The fire crackled and roared, but there was no way he could pass through the flames and get out unscathed. He began to cry. His mom and dad were on the floor under the burning beam, their bodies alight with the fire, as were everyone else. His sobs racked his entire body and he curled up into a ball in the corner of the room._

_Something from upstairs made him jump with a fright. The door came tumbling down the stairs and heavy footsteps thudded down into the basement. A man rushed down, looking through the smoke and the flames, his face covered with a bandana to stop himself from inhaling the frantically looked around the room, stopping as he saw the boyin the corner, sobbing._

_"Take it easy, kid. I got you." The man's voice was deep and his arms were muscled as he gathered the boy close to his body and raced up the stairs. The living room was up in flames, and he dodged a chunk of roof as it fell to the floor. The boy was still sobbing in fright, hanging onto the man's neck for dear life. Somehow or another, they both made it outside and into the woods. He was set down on the ground, and the man knelt down and held his face between his large hands._

_"You stay right here, okay kid? I'll come back for you. I have to see if I can save the others. Just stay right where you are!" The man got to his feet and raced back into the house, leaving the little boy alone and frightened out of his mind. When the man didn't come back, the boy began to tremble and shake. He had no tears left in his little body to shed. He was about to step towards the house when someone stumbled down the front stairs. He looked weak and badly hurt, and it frightened the boy. In the dark, he looked like a monster._

_"Kyle! Kyle, come here!" The figure called out, stumbling. The boy could hear crackling and pained moans, but he was quick to turn around and race into the woods. He could hear the man calling out to him, but he wasn't looking back. His ribs began to burn. His legs ached. He was cold. Why did his mom and dad have to die?_

_He stopped as he escaped through the bushes and saw a house ahead of him. His heart skipped a beat when a man came out with a phone in his hand, about to call 911. He stopped as he saw the boy, ready to say something but someone came up from behind him and snatched him up in their arms._

_"Come on, kid. I got you."_

_He was carried through the woods again, but it wasn't long before he was dropped to the ground and the man groaned in pain. He gripped the grass beneath him, a deep rumble rise from his chest._

_"Run, kid..." He growled._

_"But-"_

_"RUN!" The man looked up and the boy stumbled back, seeing that the man's eyes were pure red. He ran, not looking back as he ran towards the highway. He could hear the howl even over the screech of the tires of the car that came towards him, the lights shining brightly in his eyes-_

Jackson woke up with a gasp, shivering and shaking. "I saw..I saw who saved me from the fire. Paper...do you have paper?"

Ross handed him a sheet of paper and a pencil, and watched him draw a rough sketch of someone. "Who is he? Have you seen him before?"

Jackson shook his head. "Never. Only just then in my dream. He saved from the basement and carried me into the woods. Then he told me to run, and I did-I nearly got hit by a car!" He breathed heavily, shaking his head in disgust. "Why do my mom and dad want me to forget about this?"

Ross frowned, her brow furrowed in worry. "Jackson, you have to understand. You're their only child. You may not be flesh and blood, but they took you in when no one else would. They gave you a home. They gave you love. They're your family, and they love you very much. They only want what's best for you-"

"Who's to say what's best for me? They don't. I do. If I want to learn what happened to me all those years ago, then I'll do what I damn well please. Starting with this picture." He got to his feet, but reeled as his head spun and the room tilted. "Ugh...I don't feel right..."

"Lie down for a bit and sleep. I'll cancel my appointments for today and you can take the couch," Ross took a blanket from her coat closet and covered Jackson up with it as he lid down.

"Are you sure this is okay?" He felt a little weird sleeping in her office like this. "You won't be...watching me, will you?"

Ross smiled. "I'll be just outside if you need me. If I hear you moan or yell in your sleep, I'll come right in and wake you up. Deal?"

Jackson nodded, closing his eyes and not waking up for what felt like years later.

His cell phone vibrated in his jeans pocket, waking him up. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Where was he? The couch in his living room wasn't this color...nor were the walls. Where was he?

Ross's office. He had forgotten that she let him catch some sleep there. He grunted, sitting up and checking his phone. It was a text from Danny.

"At Hale House. Meet me there. Oh, dammit, Danny!" Jackson grabbed his jacket and stalked out of the office. In the main lobby, Ross and the secretary were behind the desk sipping coffee and talking quietly. Ross saw him step out and a small smile crept over her face.

"Hey, bedhead. Sleep okay?" When he didn't answer, she rose from her seat and leaned on the counter. "Jackson? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just...something I have to go fix. I'm serious, Doc, it's nothing. Don't call my parents. Please. I don't want them to worry."

Ross nodded. "Sure. Oh! Some kid dropped this off earlier. Said you left it in gym class. Birthday present?" She handed him the box that his dad gave him. "I never forgot it was your birthday, kiddo. I still remember that this is the day your parents adopted you. They were extremely excited, Jackson. The smile on your mother's face was priceless."

Jackson swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. I remember it. She bought me a toy car on the way home. I still have it."

Ross smiled as Jackson slipped into his jacket. He certainly did grow. He was no longer the shy little boy who was too scared to talk. He was still a boy in her eyes, but he was also a young man who had a determination and a fire in him to prove himself and find the truth. "Be careful, Jackson. What you might discover may not be what you want to hear."

Jackson glanced over his shoulder at her before breaking out into a jog. He had a long way to run before he made it to the Hale's, but he was used to the burning sensation in his legs. He jogged for years, building up the strength to run long distances. He could control his breathing and could go on for forever at times.

The Hale house was packed with teens by the time he got there. Everyone had a cup or a beer in their hands. They smiled and pat him on the back as he passed by them, or someone would try to hand him a beer, but he pushed past them and looked for Danny. His best friend was talking to the DJ, who had just put on "The Devil's Den" by Skrillex. Jackson shuddered. The song was much too appropriate.

"Danny! Dan!" Jackson called over the music, which he felt thudding against his ribcage. "Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing? I said no to this party!"

"Jackson! Relax! It's your birthday, man! Have a beer. Meet some girls. I hear Myra's single now!" Danny tried to make Jackson smile, but the frown on his best friend's face was permanent. "Fine Whatever. Ruin the fun."

"Do you have any idea how much we'll get in if we get caught? If _I_ get caught?" The hairs on Jackson's neck began to rise as he felt a familiar presence watching him from afar. He stiffened and unconsciously rubbed the marks on the back of his neck. "Look, Danny. You need to get everyone out of here _now_. Before someone gets hurt."

Danny looked at him oddly. "Um...okay. I'll do what I can. Is everything okay?" He called after Jackson, but his friend was already darting through the crowd.

He pushed and shoved through the crowd of people that got in his way. He needed to get everyone out. Now. Something terrible was about to happen. He could judt feel it-

A howl like nothing he's ever heard before roared over the volume of the music. Jackson cried out in pain and fell to the ground, hand on the back of his neck as the marks flared up again. Everyone was in a state of panic as they stumbled over each other in a frenzt to get out of there alive. Jackson felt a foot kick him in the face and he collapsed on his back, his nose bleeding and his head pounding as images flashed before his mind. The fire, his parents screaming, the man's face as he was taken out of the burning house.

"Well, well. Look what the wolf dragged in," a voice came from the darkness. "Sorry I had to ruin the party, but there were these two kids having sex on my bed upstairs. Everyone didn't _have_ to leave, you know. Just the ones who wanted to get killed."

Jackson moaned as a strong hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him inside the house where everything started. Derek slammed the door, and everything went to black.


	12. A Sick Joke

"So what on earth are we going to do with you?" Derek continued to drag Jackson along the hard floor. "I thought I said you couldn't have your stupid little party here? Huh? Didn't I _strictly _forbid you to?"

Jackson felt his hair being grabbed and he cried out as he shoved down some stairs. His head cracked up against the hard cement and he was sure that his skull was fractured, but no sooner did he try to stand up, Derek shoved him into the corner of the room, where he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"Derek...I tried. I tried to stop them-" He shut his eyes as Derek took a step forward. "Please! Please. Don't kill me..."

Derek chuckled. "Kill you? No, I wouldn't do that. I like to play with my food before I eat," he flashed a fanged smile and Jackson shuddered in fear. "But first of all, there's some people I need to deal with before I deal with you. Pesky hunters heard about the party and decided to come join. I'm not having any of that...human scum step into my house. Be back in a bit."

Jackson watched him stomp up the stairs and the soor shut behind him. Frantically, he raced up the stairs and found the door to be locked. He yelled, pounding on the wooden door with a fist and screaming at the top of his lungs. When his throat became sore and dry, he stumbled back down into the basement and slid to the floor. He was cold and scared, and his head throbbed under the slightest of touches. Was Allison's dad among the hunters? Was he one of the many who was determined to take down Derek tonight?

Jackson shivered and glanced down at a skull on the floor. It's empty eyes stared back at him, as if to say "So you came home, I see." He grunted, kicking it away from his sight and huddled into the wall. He still didn't like it down here. It reeked of sweat, dirt, and dead animals that have passed through here over the many years it was vacant. Now all of it was just a distant memory that he still had no clue about. Questions raced through his head-

"You still down here, kiddo?" A voice called down the stairs.

Jackson started at the familiarity of the voice. The man from his dream... "Derek? What the hell are you doing? Let me out of here!"

Derek smirked as he stepped into the light of the moon, his eyes changing color. "What, the poor baby scared of a basement? Aww, poor little orphan Jackson. What are you going to do? Cry like you did a few weeks ago? After you _begged _ me to turn you?"

Jackson clenched his jaw, feeling suddenly very brave. "You know what, Derek? I'll let you in on a little secret. Your family died here in this very house, right?" He watched as Derek's face turned serious and his eyes darkened. "Well, it turns out that my parents did too. I was here in this very room 7 years ago when the fire was started. I watched them die, Derek. They were killed right in front of me. I don't know who I am or where I come from. All I know is that this very room that you and I are in right now has the answers to my questions. Unless you have something you want to say to me? Or do you still want to kill me?"

Derek cocked his head to one side. "Did you just...did you just say that you were here-in this very room-when the fire was started?" He stepped forward and stared Jackson down. "Tell me what you know."

Jackson whimpered. "I-I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Heartbeat, Whittemore. It's ready to burst through your chest any second."

Derek was standing so close to Jackson that he could smell the forest seeping from the Hale's leather jacket as he neared. Jackson turned his head and gasped as Derek leaned down, looking right at him. "I don't know anything. I'm just having these dreams about it. It all started when you drove your diva nails into my skin."

Derek snarled. "You better watch your mouth with me, Whittemore. My so called 'diva' nails? Much sharper than the last time. I can tear your arm off in one swipe-" He paused, his ears perking up as if he was listening. "Huh. Visitors. Let's go meet them, shall we?"

Jackson grunted as he was hauled to his feet and shoved up the stairs, with Derek grabbing the collar of his jacket as they reached the living room. Derek glanced at him and winked before opening the front door and stepping out into the front porch. Jackson's heart thudded against his chest as he heard the clicks of several guns being pointed at them. He tried to move away, go back into the house, but Derek grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back.

"Evening, boys! You're late! The party's over!" Derek laughed, the sound echoing through the woods.

A man stepped forward and lowered his gun. Jackson saw immediately that it was Chris Argent, Allison's father. He was a werewolf hunter, much like his entire family for hundreds of years, and Jackson knew that he had increidble aim with his rifle.

"Derek. Let the kid go, and no one will get hurt," Chris said, his voice low and calm. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"Doesn't have to be like _this_?" He roared with laughter, his voice turning into a deep rumble. "How do you think my family felt when your stupid bitch of a sister set my house on fire and killed them all? They didn't have a say in the matter! She went ahead and killed them anyway! My little brother and sister! My mom and dad! This little twerp's family!" He moved Jackson's arm at a funny angle, causing the teenager to cry out.

Chris froze, his eyes searching over Jackson. The boy looked pale and terrified out of his mind, but he couldn't help but repeat Derek's words in his head. Jackson's family had been in the fire too? How old would he have been? 9? 10? Chris frowned, feeling instantly sorry for the boy. His sister had always been hotheaded and never thought out her plans, and this time he knew that she had went too far. An innocent boy's family had been killed in the process.

"Derek. Let Jackson go, and we'll leave quietly. No harm to anyone," Chris lowered his gun to the ground. "Lower your weapons, boys. No one gets hurt tonight. Not on my watch."

The men behind him looked at each other, a little unsure if they should lowering their weapons, especially not when there was an Alpha standing 30 feet from where they stood in front of the house. They did it anyone, and a smirk crept up on Derek's face.

"Huh. Dumb move. I can move faster than your eyes can even process and rip your throats out. You do realize that, right?"

Chris sighed heavily, sneaking a foot under the strap of his machine gun in case he needed it. "Come on, Derek. We're all friends here-"

Jackson felt a sharp pain in his wrist and he yelled. Tears rolled freely from his eyes, and he knew for sure that it was broken. It was only a matter of time before Derek either broke an arm or his ribs. He was then roughly shoved back into the house, where he fell to the floor and Derek smiled at him before slamming the door shut. He could vaguelt hear talking coming from outside, but he couldn't hear what they were talking about.

Grimacing, Jackson sat up and held his wrist in place. It hurt like hell, but he was thankful that it wasn'this lacrosse arm...or his heart being ripped out. As he sat up, something slipped out from his coat pocket. It was the gift his dad gave him, still unopened. He picked it up with his good hand, laying his broken one on his leg, and opened it with his teeth. It was a small red box, and as he opened it, something fell out of the box and onto the floor. It was a necklace of some sort, and as Jackson inspected it closer, he saw that it was made of pure silver and his name was engraved on the inside. "To Jackson, Love Mom and Dad."

Jackson frowned, looking the necklace over and feeling alone its smooth edges. What was it? It had a unique shape, almost like a cylinder with a hole in the middle. He shrugged, pulling it over his head with one arm, and was surprised by the weight of it around his neck and how cold it felt against his chest. He hid it under his shirt just in time as Derek stomped back into the house and grabbed his collar again.

"Took care of them. Let's go," Derek hauled Jackson alongside of him. "We're going for a little walk."

Jackson's jaw dropped as he aw the men unconscious on the ground. "What did you do to them? Are they dead?"

"Why do you always assume I kill people all the time? I can be nice, you know. Not killing them is my way of showing affection." He pulled Jackson into the woods, feeling the teenager resist his pull as they neared the woods. "What's wrong, now? Scared of the forest, too?"

"N-no..." Jackson flinched as he remembered the creepy man stumbling after him and calling his name-his old name. "What are we doing out here?"

"Him. We're out here because of him," Derek shoved Jackson to his knees.

"Who are you-" Jackson choked on his words, seeing Mr. Wilson tied to a tree in front of him. "What are doing? Let him go!"

"Let him go? He couldn't saved my family-_our _families, Jackson. But instead, he did nothing. Nothing to help them!"

Jackson got to his feet to punch Derek, but the Alpha was faster. Jackson screamed in pain as the werewolf grabbed a hold of his wrist and squeezed. Tears ran down his cheeks again and he fell to his knees in agony.

Derek seemed to be enjoying this, seeing the kid in pain. He continued to grip the boy's wrist, but something hanging out of Jackson's pocket caught his eye. "What's that? Your last will and testament?" He released Jackson and snatched the paper before the boy could react. "Let's see what we have here. I, Jackson Whittemore, hereby-" Derek froze, his eyes widening and the muscles in his jaw clenching. "Is this some sort of sick joke, Whittemore? Are you trying to mock me?"

Jackson backed away into a tree and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about! What are you-"

Derek shoved the drawing into Jackson's face. "This isn't funny, pup. Since when the hell were you an artist? And why the _hell_ would you start drawing my father in the first place?"


	13. You Can Hear Me?

The wind picked up and threatened to blow away the paper that Derek had gripped ever so tightly in his hand. He continued to stare at it, amazed by the realistic details that Jackson seemed to capture in the drawing. Every feature was exactly the same; the eyes, the nose, even that slight wrinkle of his father's eyebrow when he was upset or worried.

"Why did you even draw this?" Derek rumbled, the ground seeming to shake as he spoke. "You didn't even meet or know my father."

Jackson shivered as a gust of wind went up under his jacket, giving him goosebumps. "I dreamed about him. He was the one who carried me out of the fire."

Derek looked up from the drawing and stared Jackson down. "My father...saved your life? Why would he do that?"

"Maybe, unlike you, he had a heart? And he cared?" Jackson flinched as Derek took a step forward and outstretched his hand, but it was only to give back the piece of paper. "You're giving it back? Why?"

"He must've seen something in you if his dying act was to save your meaningless life. The question now is what," he leaned in closer to Jackson and sniffed. "I can't quite pick it out...but there definitely is something off." He furrowed his brow. "What's your biggest fear, Jackson? What is it that you fear the most or can't stand?"

Jackson gulped. He wanted to say "You killing me" but he knew that would only piss Derek off. "I don't like confined spaces. I can't sleep at night without opening my window because I'm scared that if something happens, I won't have a way of escape. Sitting in a classroom is hell for me. The door's closed, and the window is shut. I feel trapped. I don't like feeling trapped."

Derek looked at him carefully, studying the tone of the boy's voice and listening to his heart. Jackson was telling the truth. "Confined spaces. Huh. I would've thought it was losing your lacrosse stick or something. Or getting grounded and your car taken away."

"I don't care about any of that crap. I really don't. I wouldn't care if my car got impounded or I got kicked off the lacrosse team-" Derek's hand went over his mouth and he yelled from behind the massive hand. He watched as Derek placed a finger on his own lips to signal him to be quiet. Jackson strained his ears to listen, but all he could hear was Wilson's moans from behind the cloth that was in his mouth.

A gunshot echoed through the woods, and Derk bolted into the darkness, leaving Jackson behind with the old man. As Jackson went over to untie Wilson from the tree, a click of a gun made him freeze in place. He put his hands in the air and turned around to see Chris Argent standing a few feet away from him.

"Jackson...where's Derek?" Chris whispered, glancing around the forest. "Which way did he go?"

"I don't know-" Jackson inhaled sharply as Chris aimed the gun at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Chris shook his head. "You could be one of them..." Chris kept his gun pointed at Jackson and stepped closer. "It's a full moon. Why aren't you shifted?"

Jackson scoffed. "Are you _insane_? If I was a werewolf, you think I'd be standing here chatting with you? You'd be dead on the ground!"

Chris eyed him carefully before nodding. "You're right. Now let's the hell out of here before-Jackson? What's wrong?"

Jackson stared out into the darkness and shivered. "Something's...something's wrong. I can feel him. He's watching."

"What do you mean you can feel him? How is that even-"

A black mass rushed out of the darkness, knocking Jackson to the ground and he hit his already bruised head on the tree. He groaned, looking up to see Chris pinned to the ground by a massive wolf. Derek was breathing heavily in the hunter's face, saliva dripping from his teeth and his teeth glinting under the moonlight. He snarled and licked his teeth, and Chris struggled under his powerful grip.

Jackson could see Chris's handgun on the ground not far from where he lay. He quickly crawled over and grabbed it, aiming it directly at Derek. "Derek!" He croaked, his voice dry. "Derek! Look at me!"

The werewolf turned around to face Jackson and snarled. He released Chris from his grip and as he approached Jackson, he stood on his hind legs. He was over 6 feet tall and his dark fur was almost invisible to the darkness that surrounded them. Derek bared his teeth and let out a low rumble.

_Jackson_ A deep voice rumbled. _Jackson Whittemore_

Jackson winced and gripped his forehead as the voice echoed in his mind. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Derek's red eyes seemed to be surprised as Jackson answered him. _You can...hear me?_

A gunshot echoed again and Derek let out a pained roar. Chris had shot Derek in the shoulder and the werewolf fell to the ground, whining like a small puppy. Jackson watched as Derek shifted back, bones snapping and crunching as he made a painful shift back into his human form. He grunted and tried to crawl away from Chris, but the hunter pinned him to the ground with one foot and reloaded his gun. Derek moaned, and Jackson could see fresh blood seeping from his back.

"Been waiting a _long_ time to this, Derek. You may not have killed my sister, but I knew you were trouble right from the beginning. Just had to wait for the right moment to kill you. This seems to be the perfect time, hmm?" Chris aimed his gun at Derek. "Good-bye, Derek."

Jackson gasped as Chris was suddenly hit in the back of the head by a branch and fell to the ground. Wilson stood behind him, a branch raised and a determined look on his face. He glanced at Jackson before kicking the hunter's gun away and bending down over Derek.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Jackson yelled as Wilson tied the rope that had been around his own wrists around Derek's. "You should've let him shoot Derek!"

"Shoot him? Boy, are you nuts? I have a _live _werewolf on my hands. Do you have any idea how much the government will pay just for me to hand him in? I bet even your mommy and daddy can't even imagine how many zeros are in that number. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!" He grunted as he hauled Derek along the dirt floor of the woods and smiled. "I'm gonna be rich after this! Rich, I tell you!"

Jackson shook his head. "No. I won't let you do that. You can't let him live! He has to die!"

"Die? No, boy. He has to _live_. Who else is going to teach the world the way of the wolf? Only he can. An Alpha."

_For the love of God, shoot him already!_

Jackson felt the pressure of Derek's voice in his head and grunted. It felt like a headache forming in the center of his forehead, and he didn't like it. "No, he...I have to kill him." Kill him? Which one? His mind was blurred; confused. Between Wilson's ranting of how rich he'll be and Derek's internal voice threatening to burst out of his skull, he wasn't sure what to think anymore. The gun in his hand was shaking as his arm became shivery, like he couldn't control it.

"...and that's how I'll become famous. A simple act like that. See, Hale? I've been waiting years for this! You and your freaky family! I could've had you all but that stupid bitch had to go and set that stupid fire and kill you all! My plan was perfect! I was getting my gun and outside when-" He looked at Jackson. "You! You came out and caught me by surprise! Then the Hale father came out and grabbed you before I could shoot you! He was fast too, the bastard. Eyes were all red and glowing, and after he left with you I could hear a howl from the woods. I went in and there he was, crouched not far from the main road. He snarled at me, and I could see the kid running towards the road, like the wolf was protecting him or something. I don't know. But all I know is that the monster leapt towards me and I shot him head on. I would've shot you too, kid, but you were already getting scooped up by whoever stopped on the road. At least I got one of them."

Jackson shuddered at the thought. He would've died that night if Derek's father hadn't protected him from Wilson. But why did he sacrifice himself to save a little kid? He couldn't wrap his head around this-

Wilson suddenly yelled as Derek tore through the ropes and shifted. It was terrifying to watch. His pale skin stretched and ripped apart as black fur sprout from his skin. His bones snapped and shifted, and Jackson covered his ears as Derek screamed in pain, but his cry become a loud howl as he was fully shifted and made a leap for WIlson.

Wilson yelled and raised his gun. A shot echoed through the night. Derek froze in place, staring at the man at his feet, blood flowing from the wound in his head. The wolf turned his head and looked at Jackson, his eyes confused and curious.

Jackson saw his outstretched arm and the gun in his hand. He let out a shaky breath and the gun fell from his hand and toppled to the ground.

_Why did you shoot him and not me? Jackson, what the hell are you doing-Jackson? Jackson?_

The pain in his head finally became too much and Jackson collapsed to the ground, everything turning to black.


	14. Little Pup

He could smell the laundry detergent. This wasn't possible...the woods smelling like laundry detergent? Unless he was having a weird dream. He remembered being in the woods and Derek attacking Chris Argent. Someone shot Wilson-

Jackson started awake as a gunshot echoed in his mind. His breathing quickened but he soon realized that he was back in his room, on top of his covers in his bed. He still wore the same clothes he had on tonight, and he could smell the wilderness seeping from them.

"You okay?" A voice asked him from the darkness.

Jackson yelped and flicked on his lamp. Derek was sitting on the beanbag in the corner of his room, long legs crossed and a sports magazine in his hands. He half smiled, which quickly turned into a frown as Jackson glared at him from across the room.

"What are you doing here?" Jackson croaked, his throat suddenly dry. "I thought we were in the woods-"

"We were, but I brought you home. You passed out after you shot that old geezer. You don't remember?" Jackson shook his head, prompting Derek to sigh heavily. "Oh well. Nothing I can do there. You sure you're okay?"

Jackson scoffed. "Why do you care? You tried to kill that many times-"

"I was trying to protect you, you self-absorbed idiot. Do you not remember Wilson saying he was going to shoot you too but it was too late?"

Jackson shook his head. "This is stupid. Why would he want to kill me anyway? I'm human!" The look on Derek's face made him tremble. "R-right? I _am _human?"

Derek didn't say anything as he got to his feet. "You might want to change out of those clothes. I hear your mom rooting around in her room for something."

Jackson looked down at his shirt to find it covered in blood. "What the-what is this from?"

"Not Wilson, that's for sure," Derek glanced out the window. "I'll leave the window open for you. I know how you don't like having it closed."

"Derek! What the hell happened tonight? After I blacked out?" Jackson pulled off his shirt and grimaced at the sight of all the blood.

The Alpha sighed, leaning his forehead against the window. "You won't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. I've heard worse, Derek. Much worse."

Derek turned around to face him. "Okay. Well, for starters you blacked out and I was left to bury Wilson's body by myself. When I came back for you, you were on the ground screaming in pain. I got closer to you and saw that you were..." He cocked his head to one side, seemingly listening for something.

"What was I doing, Derek? What happened?"

Derek placed a finger on his lips and pointed to the door. Jackson could then hear footsteps coming towards his door. He raced over and locked it before his mother could knock and come in.

"Jackson? Sweetie, are you okay? I hear you moving around in there..."

"I'm fine, mom! Just got out of the shower. Don't come in! I'm naked..." He saw Derek roll his eyes.

"Well, I kind of can't when your door is locked. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine, mom! I'm fine! Good night!" Jackson heard her sigh and walk away from the door, and her own bedroom door closed with a gentle click. "Now what were you saying to me? What was I doing?"

"I'm not sure you want to-" Derek backed up into the wall as Jackson approached him, much to Jackson's surprise. "Okay, back off, you little mutt. Sit down and I'll tell you."

Jackson sat down on his bed. "What. Tell me."

Derek sighed. "Tell you? Okay. You shifted, Jackson. You full on shifted in front of me."

Jackson felt his heart sink. "I...w-what? I couldn't have! I'm human! I-I've never before in my life!"

Derek smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "You needed a trigger. All that pent up anger inside you? Sports wasn't enough to satisfy it. You needed to _kill_. And that's exactly what you did last night."

Jackson moaned and wrapped his arms around his knees. "No. No, no, no, no..."

"What? You got what you wanted, didn't you? You wanted to be like me? Well, now you're like me. So why are you complaining?"

Jackson wiped the tears from his face, and Derek backed away as he saw the smile on the teen's face. "Who said I was complaining? I think this works out to be perfect, don't you think?" He got to his feet and looked himself over in the full length mirror in the corner of his room. "I think I know why your dad saved me that night. Want to hear my theory?"

Derek growled, sensing something wrong about this situation. "Why?"

Jackson flexed an arm and smiled. "He obviously wanted to save at least some of the werewolf bloodline from the fire, right? I mean he had you and what's her name? Laura? But I guess he didn't think you were worthy of the Alpha title. You practically stole the title, didn't you?"

Derek growled, his eys changing. "What are you talking about kid?"

Jackson turned to face him, a full blown smile on his face. "While I was asleep, I dreamt some more. I remembered more of that night of the fire. Your father told me that I was the Hale's last and only hope. I don't know about you, but that just puts things into another perspective, don't you think? What if...he didn't want _you _ to become Alpha wolf?"

Derek rumbled again and bared his teeth. "Don't piss me off, pup. Especially not when your parents are in the other room. It could end badly."

"Touch them, and it'll just end badly for you..." Jackson's eyes flashed blue, much to Derek's surprise. He popped his neck and rolled his shoulders, letting out a low rumble. "Get out of my house. Now."

"And if I don't?" Derek backed up into the window and smirked at the teen's anger building up inside him. "Careful, pup. I've heard of cases where young pups like you accidently kill the people they love when they got too angry. Are you sure you want that to happen? You'd be an orphan all over again."

Jackson slammed a fist into the wall an inch from Derek's face, causing a hole to appear in the wall. "Get out of my house. Now." He repeated. "And I won't have to kill you."

Derek scoffed, sliding one leg out the windowsill. "You think you can do it? Kill me?"

"Don't test me," Jackson hissed. "It might actually happen."

"Whatever. What. Ever. Oh, and by the way...come near my house or my territory again and I _will_ kill you. I won't even blink when I do it."

"Just get out of my face, Hale. I'm sick and tired of looking at it," Jackson watched as Derek flung himself over the edge of the window and landed with ease on all fours. He could hear Derek chuckling even as he walked away from the house and jumped over the front gates.

As he lay down in his bed, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He could hear the slightest crinkle of the bedsheets in his parent's room as they shifted in bed, the hum of the fridge downstairs, and the ticking of the old grandfather clock that his father had bought years ago. He smiled at his newfound ability. He could really get used to this. If Scott could do it, then so could he right? It was simple.

Something (or someone) from outside let out a howl that pierced the night air, and Jackson rolled his eyes. He got up out of bed, and for once since he lived in this house, shut his bedroom window and locked it. He didn't have to be afraid anymore. There was no reason to be afraid. He could protect his family from Derek now.

He sighed, crawling back into bed and smiled, falling asleep. Dreamless, and the best sleep he had in years.


End file.
